His eyes rested on me while I read, and the moment I finished he began with: 

“I never said one word against that man, not one word.  I never did a thing he could take offense at, not one thing.  I don’t know how a man can justify himself writing like that.”

“Perhaps it’s political,” I said.  “You don’t belong to the same party, do you?”

“Yes, we do,” he said.  “Sometimes I’ve thought that maybe it was because I had the support of the shipyard when I first tried to get this office, but then that wasn’t anything between him and me,” and he looked away as if the mystery were inexplicable.

This shipyard was conducted by a most forceful man but one as narrow and religionistic as this region in which it had had its rise.  Old Mr. Palmer, the aged founder of it, had long been a notable figure in the streets and private chambers of the village.  The principal grocery store, coal-yard, sail-loft, hotel and other institutions were conducted in its interests.  His opinion was always foremost in the decision of the local authorities.  He was still, reticent, unobtrusive.  Once I saw him most considerately helping a cripple up the lane to the local Baptist Church.

“What’s the trouble between Burridge and Palmer?” I asked of the sail-maker finally, coming to think that here, if anywhere, lay the solution of the difficulty.

“Two big fish in too small a basket,” he responded laconically.

“Can’t agree, eh?”

“They both want to lead, or did,” he said.  “Elihu’s a beaten man, though, now.”  He paused and then added, “I’m sorry for Elihu.  He’s a good man at heart, one of the kindest men you ever saw, when you let him follow his natural way.  He’s good to the poor, and he’s carried more slow-pay people than any man in this country, I do believe.  He won’t collect an old debt by law.  Don’t believe in it.  No, sir.  Just a kind-hearted man, but he loves to rule.”

“How about Palmer?” I inquired.

“Just the same way exactly.  He loves to rule, too.  Got a good heart, too, but he’s got a lot more money than Elihu and so people pay more attention to him, that’s all.  When Elihu was getting the attention he was just the finest man you ever saw, kind, generous, good-natured.  People love to be petted, at least some people do—­you know they do.  When you don’t pet ’em they get kind o’ sour and crabbed like.  Now that’s all that’s the matter with Elihu, every bit of it.  He’s sour, now, and a little lonely, I expect.  He’s drove away every one from him, or nearly all, ’cept his wife and some of his kin.  Anybody can do a good grocery business here, with the strangers off the boats”—­the harbor was a lively one—­“all you have to do is carry a good stock.  That’s why he gets along so well.  But he’s drove nearly all the local folks away from him.”