Note 32 — Chapter Twenty-one
Reading edition
The day that my Stevey marched away, we drove into town for a point of vantage from Emma’s front windows. As we passed the House on Sycamore Street, there was our Dave astride its cupola, just like he still belonged there. I can see him now. Small and square and firm, as if the old house were a mare, and he were riding it, straight and sure and calm, into the maelstrom. And yet how little he suggested to any of us, as he sat there gazing thoughtfully into the confusion, that one day he was to ride out into that maelstrom ... a leader of leaders.