This was more like what I expected from him and I resented it. It may seem odd that I, of all persons, should have taken upon myself the defense of Denboro and its inhabitants, but that is what I did. “They are no more narrow and stubborn in their way than city people are in theirs,” I declared. “They resent being ordered about as if their opinions and wishes counted for nothing, and I honor them for it.” “Do, hey?” “Yes, I do. Mr. Colton, I tell you that you are all wrong. Simply because a man lives in the country it does not follow that he is a blockhead. No one in Denboro is rich, as you would count riches, but plenty of them are independent and ask no help from any one. You can't drive them.” “Can't I?” “No, you can't. And if you want favors from men here you must ask for them, not try to bully.” “I don't want favors. I want to be treated decently, that's all. When I came here I intended doing things to help the town. I should have enjoyed doing it. I told some of them so. Look at the money I've spent. Look at the taxes I'll pay. Why, they ought to be glad to have me here. They ought to welcome me.” “So they would if you had not behaved as if you were what some of them call you--'Emperor of New York'. I tell you, Mr. Colton, you're all wrong. I know the people here.” “So? Well, from what I've been able to learn about you, you haven't associated with many of them. You've been playing a little at the high and mighty yourself.” Chickens do come home to roost. My attitude of indifference and coldness toward my fellow citizens had been misinterpreted, as it deserved to be. George Taylor was right when he said I had made a mistake. “I have been foolish,” I said, hotly, “but not for the reason you suppose. I don't consider myself any better than the people here--no, nor even the equal of some of them. And, from what I have seen of you, Mr. Colton, I don't consider you that, either.” Even this did not make him angry. He looked at me as if I puzzled him. “Say, Paine,” he said, “what in the world are you doing down in a place like this?” “What do you mean?” “Just that. You upset my calculations. I thought I spotted you and put you in the class where you belonged when you and I first met. I can usually size up a man. You've got me guessing. What are you doing down here? You're no Rube.” If he intended this as a compliment I was not in the mood to accept it as such. I should have told him that what I was or was not was no business of his. But he went on without giving me the opportunity. “You've got me guessing,” he repeated. “You talk like a man. The way you looked out for my daughter last night and the way, according to her story, you handled her and Victor the other afternoon was a man's job. Why are you wasting your life down here?” “Mr. Colton, I don't consider--”