Mother said I was unreasonable and prejudiced and I did not argue the point. Lute and Dorinda discussed the caller at the supper table until I was constrained to leave the room. Mabel Colton might amuse herself with Mother and the two members of our household whom she had described as “characters,” she might delude them into believing her thoughtful and sympathetic and without false pride, but I knew better. She had insulted me. She had, in so many words, told me that I was lazy and worthless, just as she might have told her chauffeur or one of the servants. That it was true made no difference. Would she have spoken in that way to--to Victor Carver, for instance? Hardly. She was just what I had thought her at first, a feminine edition of Victor, with more brains than he possessed. Captain Jed Dean came into the bank the third day after my installation as bookkeeper and teller. I was alone in the director's room, going over some papers, and he entered and shook hands with me. The old fellow professed delight at my presence there. “George tells me you're takin' hold fust-rate,” he said. “That's good. I'm glad to hear it.” “Why?” I asked. There was a trace of his old pomposity in the speech--or I imagined there was--and I chose to resent it. These were the days when I was in the mood to resent almost anything. “Why?” he repeated, in surprise. “What do you mean?” “Why are you glad?” I said. “I can't see what difference it makes to you whether I succeed or not.” He regarded me with a puzzled expression, but, instead of taking offense, he laughed. “You've got a chip on your shoulder, ain't you, Ros?” he observed. “Workin' you too hard at the start, are we?” “No,” I answered, curtly. “Then what is the matter?” “Why, nothing, unless it is that everyone I meet seems to take such a great interest in my being here. I believe all of Denboro talks of nothing else.” “Not much else, I shouldn't wonder. But that's to be expected, ain't it? Everybody's glad you're makin' good.” “Humph! They all seem to regard that as the eighth wonder of the world. The position doesn't require a marvel of intelligence; almost any one with a teaspoonful of brains could fill it.” “Why no, they couldn't. But that's nothin' to do with it. I see what's the matter with you, Ros. You think all hands are knocked on their beam ends because you've gone to work. Some of 'em are, that's a fact, and you can't blame 'em much, considerin' how long you've lived here without doin' anything. But all of 'em that amount to a three-cent piece are glad, and the rest don't count anyway. You've made a good many friends in this town lately, son.” I smiled bitterly. “Friends,” I said. “Why, yes, friends. And friends are worth havin', especially if you make 'em without beggin' for their friendship. I give in that you've surprised some of us. We didn't know that you had it in you. But your standin' up to old Colton was a fine thing, and we appreciated it.”