“It’s a wonder to me,” he grumbled at last, “how men of your age can risk scramblin’ about on ladders with your mouths constantly full o’ nails.”

In the evenings they supped together.  Mrs Bowldler had made free to suggest this.

“Which,” said Mrs Bowldler in magnificent anacoluthon, “if we see it as we ought, this bein’ no ordinary occasion, but in a manner of speakin’ one of Potentates and Powers and of our feelin’s in connection therewith; by which I allude to our beloved Queen, whom Gawd preserve!—­ Gawd bless her!  I say, and He will, too, from what I know of ’im—­and therefore deservin’ of our yunited efforts; and, that bein’ the case, it would distinkly ’elp, from the point of view of the establishment (meanin’ Palmerston and me) if we (meanin’ you, sir, and Captain Hunken) could make it convenient to have our meals in common. . . .  The early Christians were not above it,” she added.  “Not they!  Ho, not,—­if I may use the expression—­by a long chalk!”

She contrived it so delicately that afterwards neither Cai nor ’Bias could remember precisely at what date—­whether on the Wednesday or on the Thursday—­they slipped back into the old comfortable groove.

The arch occupied their thoughts.  After supper, as they sat and smoked, their talk ran on it:  on details of its construction; on the chances (exiguous indeed!) of its being eclipsed by rivals in the town, some in course of construction, a few as yet existent only in the promises of rumour.

Cai would say, “I hear the Dunstans are makin’ great preparations in their back-yard.  They mean to bring their show out at the last moment, and step it in barrels.”

“I don’t believe in barrels,” ‘Bias would respond.  “Come a breeze o’ wind, where are you?  Come a strong breeze, and over you go, endangerin’ life.  It ought to be forbidden.”

“No chance of a breeze, though.”  Cai had been studying the glass closely all the week.

“Fog, more like.  ‘Tis the time o’ the year for fogs.”

Other matters they discussed more desultorily; meetings of the Procession Committee, of the Luncheon Committee (all the parish was to feast together), of the Tree-planting Committee, of the Tea Committee; the cost of the mugs and the medals for the children, the latest returns handed in by Mr Benny, who had undertaken the task of calling on every householder, poor or rich, and collecting donations.  But to the arch their talk recurred.

—­And rightly:  for in the arch they were building better than they knew.  In it, though unaware (being simple men), they were rebuilding friendship.

By Saturday evening the scaffolding was complete, firmly planted, firmly nailed, firmly clasped together by rope—­in sailors’ hitches such as do not slip.  They viewed it, approved it, and soberly, having gathered up tools, went in to supper.  On Sunday they attended morning service in church, and oh! the glow in their hearts when, in place of the usual voluntary, the organ rolled out the first bars of “God Save the Queen” and all the worshippers sprang to their feet together!