From time to time he would foreclose a mortgage where he had loaned money to some less thrifty farmer, or he would extend his acres by purchase, hard cash down, or he would build a bigger barn.

When any of these things happened the community would crowd over a little, as it were, to give him more room.

It is a curious thing, and tragic, too, when you come to think of it, how the world lets alone those people who appear to want to be let alone.

"I can live to myself," says the unneighbourly one.

"Well, live to yourself, then," cheerfully responds the world, and it goes about its more or less amusing affairs and lets the unneighbourly one cut himself off.
So our small community had let Old Toombs go his way with all his money, his acres, his hedge, and his reputation for being a just man.
Not meeting him, therefore, in the familiar and friendly life of the neighbourhood, I took to walking out toward his farm, looking freshly at the wonderful hedge and musing upon that most fascinating of all subjects--how men come to be what they are.