' Lizzie. She made friends, an' sailed
around in automobiles, an' spent a part o' the Christmas holidays
with the daughter o' Mr. Beverly Gottrich on Fifth Avenue, an'
young Beverly Gottrich brought her home in his big red runabout.
Oh, that was a great day in Pointview!--that red-runabout day of
our history when the pitcher was broken at the fountain and they
that looked out of the windows trembled.

"Dan Pettigrew was home from Harvard for the holidays, an' he an'
Lizzie met at a church party. They held their heads very high, an'
seemed to despise each other an' everybody else. Word went around
that it was all off between 'em. It seems that they had riz--not
risen, but riz--far above each other.

"Now it often happens that when the young ascend the tower o' their
aspirations an' look down upon the earth its average inhabitant
seems no larger to them than a red ant. Sometimes there's nobody
in sight--that is, no real body--nothin' but clouds an' rainbows
an' kings an' queens an' their families. Now Lizzie an' Dan were
both up in their towers an' lookin' down, an' that was probably the
reason they didn't see each other.

"Right away a war began between the rival houses o' Henshaw an'
Pettigrew. The first we knew Sam was buildin' a new house with a
tower on it--by jingo!--an' hardwood finish inside an' half an acre
in the dooryard. The tower was for Lizzie. It signalized her rise
in the community. It put her one flight above anybody in Pointview.

"As the house rose, up went Sam's prices again. I went over to the
store an' bought a week's provisions, an' when I got the bill I see
that he'd taxed me twenty-nine cents for his improvements.

"I met one o' my friends, an' I says to him, 'Wal,' I says, 'Sam is
goin' to make us pay for his new house an' lot. Sam's ham an'
flour have jumped again. As an assessor Sam is likely to make his
mark.'

"'Wal, what do ye expect?' says he. 'Lizzie is in high society,
an' he's got to keep up with her. Lizzie must have a home proper
to one o' her station. Don't be hard on Sam.'

"'I ain't,' I says. 'But Sam's house ought to be proper to his
station instead o' hers.'

"I had just sat down in my office when Bill Pettigrew came
in--Sam's great rival in the grocery an' aspiration business. He'd
bought a new automobile, an' wanted me to draw a mortgage on his
house an' lot for two thousand dollars.

"'You'd better go slow,' I says. 'It looks like bad business to