Majesty ebbed and flowed into every nook and cranny of the country, spilling down into the mousiest holes. Even into Nazareth. Saturday, everyone flooded downtown, anxious to share the united good spirits, and that is how Fern happened to pick up the letter from Charlie. Jeb did not know if she had read the sender's name on the smudged corner of the envelope but suspected she had. Informing her that he had a brother Charlie without explaining the difference in last names complicated the plan, so he took the letter from her hand and dropped the idea entirely. He only addressed the matter by thanking her for dropping by the mail, and left it at that. Charlie had scrawled his alias on the front—Philemon Gracie. Fern sounded short on breath but euphoric when she showed up on the parsonage porch, Charlie's letter in her hand. “I've never seen so many people out and about town. You'd think a holiday had come the way folks are out milling through all of the stores. Woolworth's is full to capacity.
