man darkened the doorway, and the storekeeper fell back as Captain
Carroll entered amid a sullen silence.

The postmaster rose, and in a second the small man and Amidon
followed his example. Carroll greeted them all with a cordiality
which had in it a certain implication of admiring confidence. Not a
man there but felt at once that this new-comer had a most flattering
recognition of himself in particular, to the exclusion of all the
others. It was odd how he contrived to produce this impression, but
produce it he did. It was Arthur Carroll's great charm, the great
secret of a remarkable influence over his fellow-men. He appealed
with consummate skill to the selfish side of every one with whom he
came in contact, he exalted him in his own eyes far above the masses
with whom he was surrounded, by who could tell what subtle alchemy.
Each man preened unconsciously his panoply of spiritual pride under
this other man's gentle, courteous eyes. Even Rosenstein straightened
himself. And besides, this was the respectful admiration which the
man himself excited, by reason of his fine appearance and address,
his good looks, his irreproachable clothes, and his reputed wealth.

Arthur Carroll made an entrance into the "Tonsorial Parlor."
Moreover, the other men could see out in front of the establishment,
the coach, the coachman in livery--the first livery on record as
actually resident in Banbridge; liveries had passed through, but
never before tarried--the fretting steeds with their glittering
equipment. Around the coach had already gathered several small boys,
huddled together, and transfixed with awe too deep for impudence.

Carroll, having greeted the men, said good-morning urbanely to the
barber, who had ceased lathering Tappan and was looking at him