Chapter 5

           In1880BenjaminButtonwastwentyyearsold,andhesignalisedhisbirthdaybygoingtoworkforhisfatherinRogerButton&Co.,WholesaleHardware.Itwasinthatsameyearthathebegan"goingoutsocially"—thatis,hisfatherinsistedontakinghimtoseveralfashionabledances.RogerButtonwasnowfifty,andheandhissonweremoreandmorecompanionable—infact,sinceBenjaminhadceasedtodyehishair(whichwasstillgrayish)theyappearedaboutthesameage,andcouldhavepassedforbrothers.

           OnenightinAugusttheygotintothephaetonattiredintheirfull-dresssuitsanddroveouttoadanceattheShevlins’countryhouse,situatedjustoutsideofBaltimore.Itwasagorgeousevening.Afullmoondrenchedtheroadtothelustrelesscolourofplatinum,andlate-bloomingharvestflowersbreathedintothemotionlessairaromasthatwerelikelow,half-heardlaughter.Theopencountry,carpetedforrodsaroundwithbrightwheat,wastranslucentasintheday.Itwasalmostimpossiblenottobeaffectedbythesheerbeautyofthesky—almost.

           "There’sagreatfutureinthedry-goodsbusiness,"RogerButtonwassaying.Hewasnotaspiritualman—hisaestheticsensewasrudimentary.

           "Oldfellowslikemecan’tlearnnewtricks,"heobservedprofoundly."It’syouyoungsterswithenergyandvitalitythathavethegreatfuturebeforeyou."

           FaruptheroadthelightsoftheShevlins’countryhousedriftedintoview,andpresentlytherewasasighingsoundthatcreptpersistentlytowardthem—itmighthavebeenthefineplaintofviolinsortherustleofthesilverwheatunderthemoon.