Dr. Gowdy flew into a passion. Threatened with legal proceedings!--he, the blameless citizen. Accused of dishonesty!--he, the pattern of integrity. Taunted with failing powers!--he, the inexhaustible reservoir of vigour, of energy! What, after all this, were the pin-pricks daily, hourly inflicted by the press, the post, the tongues of indignant associates, all intent on vindicating the honour of a community he had so wantonly attacked? What were squibs, caricatures, saucy verses, anonymous letters, cold looks from former friends, hot taunts from casual acquaintances? For art had been attacked in the very home and haunt of art! The town had been knifed under the ribs by one of her own sons!--made ridiculous in the eyes of the ribald East, and dubious in the regard of the trusting, tributary West! Well, what would they have? demanded the Doctor. Should we gain anything whatever by always throwing bouquets at ourselves? Could we go along forever living on the flubdub of self-praise? But a truce to all this!--for Dr. Gowdy was coming to see, to feel, to consider but one thing--the Squash. Here was the fountain-head of all his woes. "Perdition take that fellow!" he exclaimed, with his thoughts fiercely focused on the unseen Jared Stiles. XII Yes, the Squash had begun to run, and nothing, apparently, had the power to stop it. It was putting out leaves here, blossoms there, and tendrils everywhere. Particularly in the press. Interviews continued. Generals, judges, merchants, capitalists--the whole trying tribe of "prominent citizens"--were asked what they thought of such an attack on the fair fame of the city by one of its own sons. Less prominent citizens sent in their views unasked. Professors of crayon portraiture wrote to tell the Doctor he knew nothing of art. Lecturers to classes in civics advised him that he little realized the citizen's duty to his native town. The _Noonday Worm_, which had more than once praised the Doctor's public spirit, now turned on him and called him a renegade. The _Early Morning Fly_, among other buzzings, buzzed this: "If you don't like our city, Doctor, there is Another--higher up. Good-bye; we'll see you later!" The Doctor, who had always felt that he had done as much as any for the town's well-being within, and more than many for its repute abroad, saw now that he had been taking much too favourable a view of himself.