"Sartin. Who else? Met his Majesty yet?"

"No. Have you?"

"I met him when he was down a month ago. Sim Eldredge introduced me
right here in the store. 'Mr. Colton,' says Sim, proud but humble, so
to speak, 'let me make you acquainted with one of our selectmen, Cap'n
Dean. Cap'n, shake hands with Mr. Colton of New York.' We shook, and I
cal'late I'd ought to have kept that hand in a glass case ever since.
But, somehow or other, I ain't."

"What sort of a chap is Colton?" I asked.

"Oh, all right of his kind, I guess. In amongst a gang of high financers
like himself he'd size up as a pretty good sport, I shouldn't wonder.
And he was polite enough to me, I suppose. But, darn him, I didn't like
the way he looked at me! He looked as if--as if--well, I can't tell you
how he looked."

"You don't need to," I said, brusquely. "I know."

"You do, hey? He ain't looked at you, has he? No, course he ain't! You
said you hadn't met him."

"I've met others of his kind."

"Yes. Well, I'm a hayseed and I know it. I'm just a countryman and he's
a millionaire. He'll be the big show in this town from now on. When he
blows his nose seven-eighths of this community 'll start in workin' up a
cold in the head."