He turned on his heel and started to go.

"Will you?" I asked, slily.

He looked back over his shoulder. "I ain't subject to colds--much," he
snapped. "But YOU better lay in a supply of handkerchiefs, Ros."

I smiled. I knew what was troubling him. A little tin god has a pleasant
time of it, no doubt, until the coming of the eighteen carat gold idol.
Captain Jed had been boss of Denboro--self-appointed to that eminent
position, but holding it nevertheless--and to be pushed from his
perch by a city rival was disagreeable. If I knew him he would not be
dethroned without a fight. There were likely to be some interesting and
lively times in our village.

I could understand Dean's dislike of Colton, but his interest in the
Shore Lane was a mystery. Why should he wish to buy that worthless strip
of land? And what did he mean by asking if I had chances to sell it?
Still pondering over this puzzle, I walked toward the front of the
store, past the group waiting for the mail, where the discussion
concerning the Coltons was still going on, Thoph Newcomb and Alvin Baker
both talking at once.

"You ask Ros," shouted Alvin, pounding the counter beside him. "Say,
Ros, Newcomb here seems to think that because a feller comes from the
city and is rich that that gives him the right to order the rest of us
around as if we was fo'mast hands. He says--"

"I don't neither!" yelled Thoph. "What I say is that money counts,