People in Fairbridge put that somewhat humiliating fact from their minds.

Nothing would have induced a loyal citizen to admit that Fairbridge was too small game for such purposes.

There was a tiny theatre in the neighbouring city of Axminister, which had really some claims to being called a city, from tradition and usage, aside from size.

Axminister was an ancient Dutch city, horribly uncomfortable, but exceedingly picturesque.
Fairbridge looked down upon it, and seldom patronised the shows (they never said "plays") staged in its miniature theatre.

When they did not resort to their own City Hall for entertainment by local talent, they arrayed themselves in their best and patronised New York itself.
New York did not know that it was patronised, but Fairbridge knew.
When Mr.and Mrs.George B.Slade boarded the seven o'clock train, Mrs.Slade, tall, and majestically handsome, arrayed most elegantly, and crowned with a white hat (Mrs.Slade always affected white hats with long drooping plumes upon such occasions), and George B., natty in his light top coat, standing well back upon the heels of his shiny shoes, with the air of the wealthy and well-assured, holding a belted cigar in the tips of his grey-gloved fingers, New York was most distinctly patronised, although without knowing it.
It was also patronised, and to a greater extent, by little Mrs.
Wilbur Edes, very little indeed, so little as to be almost symbolic of Fairbridge itself, but elegant in every detail, so elegant as to arrest the eye of everybody as she entered the train, holding up the tail of her black lace gown.