in
his heart, that he is no good and still resent having others say that he
is, particularly when they say that he and Luther Rogers are birds of a
feather. I didn't care for Dean's good opinion; of course I didn't! Nor
for that of any one else in Denboro, my mother excepted. But Dean and
the rest should keep their opinions to themselves, confound them!

The path from our house--the latter every Denboro native spoke of as
the "Paine Place"--wound along the edge of the bluff for perhaps three
hundred yards, then turned sharply through the grove of scrub oaks and
pitch pines and emerged on the Shore Lane. The Shore Lane was not a
public road, in the strictest sense of the term. It was really a part of
my land and, leading, as it did, from the Lower Road to the beach, was
used as a public road merely because mother and I permitted it to be. It
had been so used, by sufferance of the former owner, for years, and when
we came into possession of the property we did not interfere with the
custom. Land along the shore was worth precious little at that time and,
besides, it was pleasant, rather than disagreeable, to hear the fish
carts going out to the weirs, and the wagons coming to the beach for
seaweed, or, filled with picnic parties, rattling down the Lane. We
could not see them from the house until they had passed the grove and
emerged upon the beach, but even the noise of them was welcome. The
Paine Place was a good half-mile from the Lower Road and there were few
neighbors; therefore, especially in the winter months, any sounds of
society were comforting.

I strode through the grove, kicking the dead branches out of my way, for
my mind was still busy with Luther and Captain Dean. As I came out into
the Lane I looked across at the Atwater mansion, now the property of the
great and only Colton, "Big Jim" Colton, whose deals and corners in Wall
Street supplied so many and such varied sensations for the financial
pages of the city papers, just as those of his wife and family supplied
news for the society columns; I looked across, I say, and then I stopped
short to take a longer look.

I could see the carpenters, whose hammers I had heard, at work upon the
roof of the barn, now destined to do double duty as a stable and garage.
They, and the painters and plumbers, had been busy on the premises for
months. The establishment had been a big one, even when Major Atwater
owned it, but the new owners had torn down and added and re