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“Wait, child! Perhaps they resent some things in you. I want you to try and be impersonal. They'd paw over anybody who came in new. Didn't you, with newcomers in College?”

“Yes.”

“Well then! Will you be impersonal? I'm paying you the compliment of supposing that you can be. I want you to be big enough to help me make this town worth while.”

“I'll be as impersonal as cold boiled potatoes. (Not that I shall ever be able to help you 'make the town worth while.') What do they say about me? Really. I want to know.”

“Of course the illiterate ones resent your references to anything farther away than Minneapolis. They're so suspicious — that's it, suspicious. And some think you dress too well.”

“Oh, they do, do they! Shall I dress in gunny-sacking to suit them?”

“Please! Are you going to be a baby?”

“I'll be good,” sulkily.

“You certainly will, or I won't tell you one single thing. You must understand this: I'm not asking you to change yourself. Just want you to know what they think. You must do that, no matter how absurd their prejudices are, if you're going to handle them. Is it your ambition to make this a better town, or isn't it?”