At two o'clock all the townsfolk that matter gather with bunches of flowers on the esplanade or in front of the cemetery half-way up Chestnut Hill, for the ceremony and an open air service.
Early in the afternoon I betook myself with Marie to the scene.

I put on a fancy waistcoat of black and white check and my new patent leather boots, which make me look at them.

It is fine weather on this Sunday of Sundays, and the bells are ringing.

Everywhere the hurrying crowd climbs the hill--peasants in flat caps, working families in their best clothes, young girls with faces white and glossy as the bridal satin which is the color of their thoughts, young men carrying jars of flowers.

All these appear on the esplanade, where graying lime trees are also in assembly.