Was Fairbridge great because of its inhabitants, or were the inhabitants great because of Fairbridge?
Who could say?
And why was Fairbridge so important that its very smallness overwhelmed that which, by the nature of things, seemed overwhelming?
Nobody knew, or rather, so tremendous was the power of the small in the village, that nobody inquired.
It is entirely possible that had there been any delicate gauge of mentality, the actual swelling of the individual in his own estimation as he neared Fairbridge after a few hours' absence, might have been apparent.

Take a broker on Wall Street, for instance, or a lawyer who had threaded his painful way to the dim light of understanding through the intricate mazes of the law all day, as his train neared his loved village.

From an atom that went to make up the motive power of a great metropolis, he himself became an entirety.

He was It with a capital letter.

No wonder that under the circumstances Fairbridge had charms that allured, that people chose it for suburban residences, that the small, ornate, new houses with their perky little towers and aesthetic diamond-paned windows, multiplied.
Fairbridge was in reality very artistically planned as to the sites of its houses.