new how one house
was falling to pieces for lack of repairs; he heard of the horses that
had been sold or had died of old age and left their owners without a
beast to draw their rickety buggies or carriages; he was deeply
interested in the failing fortunes of what had once been the most
important "store" in the town, and whose owner had been an aristocratic
magnate, having no more undignified connection with the place than that
of provider of capital.

As he walked up Main Street on his way to market, with his basket on his
arm, he saw who had been able to "lay in new stock" and who had not. He
saw the new sign-boards hung outside small houses which had been turned
into offices. He knew what young scion of a respectable family had begun
"doctoring" or "set up as a lawyer." Sometimes he even dropped in and
made brief visits of respectful congratulation.

"But," he said privately to his young master, "de air ob de atmosphere,
it's jest full of dem young lawyers an' doctors. Dar don't seem to be
nothin' else for a gen'leman's sons to do but to kyore people or go to
law for 'em. Of cose dey oughtn't ter hab ter work, gen'lemen oughtn'ter.
Dey didn't usen to heb ter, but now dey is gotter. Lawdy, Marse Rupert,
you'll hatter 'scuse me, but de young lawyers, an' de young doctors, dey
is scattered about dish yer D'lisleville!"

There were certain new sign-boards which excited him to great interest.
There was one he never passed without pausing to examine and reflect upon
it.

When he came within range of it on his way up the street, his pace would
slacken, and when he reached it he would stop at the edge of the pavement
and stand with his basket on his arm, gazing at the lettering with an
absorbed air of interest and curiosity. It read, "Milton January, Claim
Agent." He could not read, but he had heard comments made upon the
profession of the owner of this sign-board which had filled him with
speculative thought. He shared the jealousy of strangers who came from
"the North" to Delisleville and set up offices, which much more
intelligent persons than himself burned with. He resented them as
intruders, and felt that their well-dressed air and alert, business-like
manner was an insult to departed fortunes.

"What they come fer?" he used to grumble. "Takin' away trade an' business
when they ain't none left for de proper people nohow. How's we gwine ter
live if all New York City an' Bos'n an' Philadelphy pours in?"

"They are