The auto moved off. Mr. Colton gave his arm to his daughter and they moved through the crowd, Eldredge acting as master of ceremonies.
“It's all right, Elnathan,” ordered Sim, addressing the gate-keeper. “Don't bother Mr. Colton about the admission now. I'll settle with you, myself, later. Now, Mr. Colton, you and the lady come right along with me. Ain't met the minister yet, have you? He said you wan't to home when he called. And you let me get you some strawberries. They're fust-rate, if I do say it.”
He led the way toward the tables. I watched the progress from where I stood. It was interesting to see how the visitors were treated by the different groups. Some, like Sim, were gushing and obsequious. A few, Captain Jed among them, walked stubbornly by, either nodding coldly or paying no attention. Others, like George Taylor and Doctor Quimby, were neither obsequious nor cold, merely bowing pleasantly and saying, “Good evening,” as though greeting acquaintances and equals. Yes, there WERE good people in Denboro, quiet, unassuming, self-respecting citizens.
One of them came up to me and spoke.
“Hello, Ros,” said Captain Elisha Warren, “Sim's havin' the time of his life, isn't he?”
“He seems to be,” I replied.
“Yes. Well, there's some satisfaction in havin' a thick shell; then you don't mind bein' stepped on. Yet, I don't know; sometimes I think fellers of Sim's kind enjoy bein' stepped on, provided the boot that does it is patent leather.”
“I wonder why they came here,” I mused.
“Who? the Coltons? Why, for the same reason children go to the circus, I shouldn't wonder—to laugh at the clowns. I laugh myself sometimes—though 'tain't always at their kind of clowns. Speakin' of that, young Carver's in good company this evenin', ain't he?”
“Who were those fellows in the auto?” I asked.