place this, ain't it?" said he.

"It's interesting for a short visit," said Montague.

"You can count me out of it," said the other. "I like to spend my
summers in a place where I can take my coat off. And I prefer beer
to champagne in hot weather, anyhow."

Montague did not reply.

"Such an ungodly lot of snobs a fellow does meet!" remarked his
host, cheerily. "They have a fine time making fun of me--it amuses
them, and I don't mind. Sometimes it does make you mad, though; you
feel you'd like to make them swallow you, anyway. But then you
think, What's the use of going after something you don't want, just
because other people say you can't have it?"

It was on Montague's lips to ask, "Then why do you come here?" But
he forbore.

The car sped on down the stately driveway, and his companion
proceeded to point out the mansions and the people, and to discuss
them in his own peculiar style.

"See that yellow brick house in there," said he. "That belongs to
Allis, the railroad man. He used to live in Pittsburg, and I
remember him thirty years ago, when he had one carriage for his
three babies, and pushed them himself, by thunder. He was glad to
borrow money from me then, but now he looks the other way when I go
by.