nodded. Victor, whose foot was on the step of the
car, did not deign to turn.

"Thanks," he drawled. "I am--er--embalmed, I'm sure. All ready, Phil.
Let her go, Oscar."

The auto moved off. Mr. Colton gave his arm to his daughter and they
moved through the crowd, Eldredge acting as master of ceremonies.

"It's all right, Elnathan," ordered Sim, addressing the gate-keeper.
"Don't bother Mr. Colton about the admission now. I'll settle with you,
myself, later. Now, Mr. Colton, you and the lady come right along with
me. Ain't met the minister yet, have you? He said you wan't to home when
he called. And you let me get you some strawberries. They're fust-rate,
if I do say it."

He led the way toward the tables. I watched the progress from where I
stood. It was interesting to see how the visitors were treated by the
different groups. Some, like Sim, were gushing and obsequious. A few,
Captain Jed among them, walked stubbornly by, either nodding coldly or
paying no attention. Others, like George Taylor and Doctor Quimby, were
neither obsequious nor cold, merely bowing pleasantly and saying, "Good
evening," as though greeting acquaintances and equals. Yes, there WERE
good people in Denboro, quiet, unassuming, self-respecting citizens.

One of them came up to me and spoke.

"Hello, Ros," said Captain Elisha Warren, "Sim's havin' the time of his
life, isn't he?"

"He seems to be," I replied.

"Yes. Well, there's some satisfaction in havin' a thick shell; then
you don't mind bein' stepped on. Yet, I don't know; sometimes I think
fellers of Sim's kind enjoy bein' stepped on, provided the boot that
does it is patent leather."

"I wonder why they came here," I mused.

"Who? the Coltons? Why, for the same reason children go to the circus,
I shouldn't wonder--to laugh at the clowns. I laugh myself
sometimes--though 'tain't always at their kind of clowns. Speakin' of
that, young Carver's in good company this evenin', ain't he?"

"Who were those fellows in the auto?" I asked.

"Didn't you recognize them? One was Phil Somers--son of the rich widow
who owns the big cottage at Harniss. 'Tother is a bird of the same flock
down visitin' em. Carver's takin' 'em over to Ostable to say good-by to
another specimen, a college mate, who is migratin' to Europe tomorrow.
The chauffeur told Dan, my man, about it this afternoon. The chauffeur
figgered that, knowin' the crowd, 'twas likely to be a lively farewell.
Hello! there's Abbie hail