moment of panic, Abner Sawyer felt that he would have retracted at
any cost had it not been for the wonderful glow in Jimsy's face. He felt
a little sick.... God help him, he liked Jimsy! He wanted to please
him!

[Illustration]

VII

THE DOWNFALL

The Lindon hill was full of watchers. That in itself was disconcerting.
Wild spirits gather in the snow on Christmas morning. And it was, of
course, like Jimsy to fling himself suddenly upon his sled with a whoop
and go flying down the hill through the snow fleet, yelling wildly, but
Abner Sawyer wished he had made his debut a trifle less conspicuously.
For it brought all eyes to Abner Sawyer himself standing stiffly upon
the hill-top not quite sure of his ground. A neighbor or so eyed him in
polite surprise and nodded; a child fastened round eyes upon his silk
hat and he wished he had left it at home. But Christmas was no more
Christmas than Sunday was Sunday without this formal head-piece, and
besides, it had been his sole concession to the horrified stir of
dignity within him when Jimsy had appeared upon the walk beside him
dragging his sled. What on earth was he doing here anyway in the rough
and tumble sport of a Christmas morning!

Yells of greeting followed Jimsy's meteoric flight down the hillside.
Everybody seemed to know and like him, and Jimsy, as ever, was noisily
responsive. Yes, he was more a part of this village of Lindon than the
first citizen himself standing aloof upon the hill-top, and the first
citizen had spent his life in Lindon. Abner Sawyer felt hurt and alone.
He had slipped in an unwary moment from his wound-proof armor of
conscious superiority and in this world of friends outside it, there was
more room for Jimsy than there was for him. Small comfort, after all,
the solitude of greatness!

[Illustration]

The first citizen frowned impatiently. What was it all about, anyway, he
wondered hopelessly. Did he want to be one of that yelling, shoving,
jostling crowd? Surely not! His dignity rose in revolt at the very
thought of it. Did he hunger for Jimsy's supreme gift of adaptability?
Why should this fierce new hunger for one friendly, honest,
heart-warming smile of liking and welcome gnaw at his heart?... Why--God
help him!--why was he a stranger in his own town?

[Illustration]

"The world is all wrong," said Abner Sawyer, a little white; "I am not
myself." And for a wild moment his sore heart flamed again at Jimsy's
revolutionizin