If I were a nationalist resident of the Garvaghy Road in Portadown, one thought would be nagging away in the back of my mind this morning: "What in heaven's name is the Orange Order up to?"
Since July the Garvaghy residents have grown accustomed to the comings and going of small groups of Orange supporters, who travel from as far away as the United States and New Zealand, on their quiet pilgrimage to a weather-beaten caravan in which Harold Gracey, District Master of Portadown LOL No 1, has famously taken up residence.
Among those who admire him, Harold Gracey is known as The Man On The Hill. Those with a less complimentary view have a description which more accurately coincides with the title of an old song.
But Harold Gracey is no Fool On The Hill. Neither are those members of the Orange Order who have been taking stock of their dilemma since July and who concede they have been outwitted by republican guile. What they need now, they believe, is an equally effective strategy of their own. And they are spending long days and nights developing it.
Small wonder that the Orange Order has lost most of the arguments. And no wonder at all that, when the violence which accompanied this year's Drumcree protest apparently reached its nadir with the death by fire of three young Catholic boys on a housing estate in Ballymoney, they quickly lost the sympathy and support on which the order is dependent in the wider unionist community, including that of the main Protestant churches.
Ever since, they have been trying to re-establish themselves as a dignified institution, genuinely committed to "civil and religious liberty for all"; efforts which thus far have met with only limited success.
For months it has appeared that the Orange Order is still stuck in its trench, unable to decide whether to advance or retreat, whether to take a mad rush at the enemy lines, or engage in a more subtle course of action in efforts to complete an unfinished journey.
Now suddenly, something is stirring. Within the space of a few short days, Orangemen from Portadown, including Harold Gracey, have, for the first time in the institution's history, involved themselves in direct dialogue with the head of the Catholic Church in Ireland. Three days later they were presenting their credentials in person to the Prime Minister of the UK.
Significantly, the talks with Archbishop Sean Brady also involved a priest from the Garvaghy Road, Father Sean Larkin, and a leading member of the business community.
The meeting with Tony Blair, facilitated on the eve of the Queen's Speech, went on for over an hour. The eight-man delegation from the House of Orange was one of the largest to pass through the doors of 10 Downing Street, and the formal pictures in front of the marble fireplace suggested a historic aspect to the talks.
Few details have emerged from the encounter with the archbishop. And the secrecy surrounding Monday's Downing Street visit was so intense that one delegate did not tell close family until his flight had touched down safely at Heathrow.
Despite an unusually high influx of visitors last weekend, Harold Gracey, too, kept his counsel en route to Downing Street. He slipped away from his caravan at 4.30 a.m. without a word to anyone.
So far as is known, there were no "flies on the wall" at either meeting.
But rumours have emerged of initiatives, of the order committing itself to a positive role in the new emerging society, of its backing for cultural and economic schemes from which both sides of the community will demonstrably benefit.
And the documents which changed hands certainly included one in which the Orange Order thoughtfully set out its own idea of how traditional parades can take place in an environment free from hostility.
There's even a suggestion that the order is overcoming its traditional clumsiness in the deft world of political correctness. The parades document is being circulated to the institution's wider membership in a vivid orange jacket. Tony Blair's personal copy is red.
And then there were the feel-good pictures of those normally stoic Orangemen having a good old chuckle with the PM.
So what, indeed, is the Orange Order up to? Cynics, like the residents' leader, Brendan McKenna, point to increasing tensions at Drumcree. He believes they are attempting to merge the threat of force with a show of outward diplomacy. Is it possible they have learned so much from Sinn Fein, so quickly?
Mr McKenna is certainly correct in one important respect. Orange supporters are beginning to gather again in significant numbers under cover of the winter nights, albeit in much smaller groups than were evident in July.
Already, many lodges have vowed not to leave Harold Gracey without friends if he is still living in the caravan on the hill come Christmas.
Could it be that the thinking men in the Orange Order are making a last desperate effort to resolve the impasse peaceably for fear that the trickle of support now evident will become a flood, and that the ghost of July past will come back to haunt this Christmas present?
Peace in Northern Ireland has only just taken root. It is still a fragile flower. There are plenty of people on both sides of the divide who would like to trample it underfoot, and who will use any vehicle they can to try to destroy it.
Despite the feelings of isolation and marginalisation brought about by the tragic events of July, and their distaste for the Belfast Agreement, the Orange Order does not belong in that category. But it recognises that its cause has been hijacked by sinister elements, and that its image has been wounded. Remedial treatment is called for.
Restoring its soiled reputation is undoubtedly one of the prime motivations behind the Orange Order's openly gregarious approach and the policy of direct engagement with political and religious leaders. Avoiding another Drumcree catastrophe is of at least equal importance.
The Orange leadership recognises that the determination of its members for a satisfactory resolution to Drumcree remains as strong as ever. And the only result that will satisfy the faithful is the dignified completion of their Somme anniversary walk along its traditional route.
It also knows that if it wants to be given its place in the sun, it cannot afford to be held responsible for the replacing of 1998's summer of hate by a long, cold winter of discontent.
Geoff Martin is editor of the News Letter. Mary Holland returns next week