"No," Neil said. "Not with the big race called off."

"Called off? How's that?"

"Because you weren't there, Luther."

Mr. Ward gave a gratified laugh at this graceful compliment, and
descended to facts.

"I'm too old for horse racing. It's my boy's turn. He went over with
Willard Nash's crowd to-day. Why didn't you?" Mr. Ward demanded
severely.

"Oh, Willard asked me all right. He's quite strong for me now." Mr. Ward
had doubted this, being on the watch for slights to Neil and resenting
them, though he never made an effort to prevent them. This was the usual
attitude of Neil's more influential friends.

"Willard's a shrimp," said Mr. Ward gruffly. "And I like you," he added
in a burst of frankness. "I always did like you, Neil. You've pulled
yourself up by your boot-straps, and I hope you hang on to them tight.
There's nobody better pleased than I am. Oh, I got a rig and sent all
the help from the store over to the fair to-day," he added, turning
quickly to impersonal subjects.

"You always do treat them right."

"Well, this wasn't my idea. I got it from the Colonel." A look of
harmless but plainly evident pride came into Mr. Ward's open and ruddy
countenance as he mentioned the great man's name. It was only the week
before that he had received his first dinner invitation from the
Everards. It came at the eleventh hour and did not include his wife, but
he was dazzled by it still. "You know what he's doing? Closing his
house, practically, for all three days of the fair, and sending all the
help on the place over there--two touring cars full. It's a fine thing
for them. They're high-class help and don't have it any too interesting
down here. Anybody that says he's not democratic don't know the Colonel.
This town don't half know him yet."

"You're right," Neil put in softly.

"Democratic," declaimed Mr. Ward, "and public spirited. Look at the
fountain he's going to put up in the square. Look at the old Grant house
going to be fitted up for a library. Look at him running for mayor, when
he's been turning down chances at bigger offices for years--willing to
stay here and serve for the good of the town. There's talk against him
more than ever this year. I know that. It amounts to an indignation
meeting when the boys get together at Halloran's. Well, failures hate a
successful man, and their talk don't count. It will die down. But I hate
to hear of it. For the Colonel's put this town on the map. He's not
perfect