Granting this—where was there any society? To which the older generation answered, indignantly, that nowhere in the United States of America HAD there existed such society, elegance and grandeur as at the summer colony on Birge’s Lake, and, if those days were contemporary with Abigail Clergy’s great sorrow, what mattered it? The aroma of past grandeur lingers long, and even yet the stately mansions with endless turrets and towers stood about the shores of the lake causing one to respect their closed shutters. To this the younger generation, although protesting that the society was entirely a memory, had no reply. For the older generation had spoken the truth. About the perfect little lake, an emerald in its coloring and flanked by pungent pine woods and an amphitheater of tiny hills, some half a century before, had been built the summer homes of the oldest of America’s aristocracy. In those days when Birge’s Corners was but a post office and a few stray dogs, the lake had been an oasis for the tired rich; here families came to grow tanned and rosy, while love affairs ripened and wedding bells were listened for and the elders sat back in pleased approval. The rich owned the lake, so the saying went—but Daniel Birge owned the Corners and the rich! Daniel Birge was steward to the rich. If they desired an improvement in the way of carriage sheds or certain grades of merchandise which were daily necessities, Daniel Birge, founder of Birge’s Corners, saw to it that it was accomplished. The lake had been named for his great-great-grandfather, who discovered it, and, when the richest of the rich suggested that “Birge’s Lake” was a trifle commonplace name for such a bit of paradise—“Fairy Lake” would be more appropriate—they met their Waterloo. This was the only thing Daniel Birge refused the rich—the re-naming of the little lake. “Great-great-grandpap found it, and it’ll keep his name,” was all he said. And because Dan Birge “had a way with him”—even as his grandson, the present Dan Birge, had a “way with him”—the summer colony never questioned the matter again. Birge’s Lake and Birge’s Corners were christened for eternity. Meanwhile, middle class inhabitants came to live at the Corners, houses multiplied from season to season, the Hotel Button came into existence, as did rival blacksmiths’ shops and Submit Curler’s store. Even a travelling dentist took rooms at Betsey Pilrig’s for every Thursday, and the Methodist and Baptist churches ran a race as to the height of their steeples.