rouse a whole neighbourhood and collect before it a group of
eager, anxious, hesitating people? 

I will tell you. 

This fence is no ordinary fence, and this gate no ordinary gate;
nor is the fact of the latter standing a trifle open, one to be
lightly regarded or taken an inconsiderate advantage of.  For this
is Judge Ostrander's place, and any one who knows Shelby or the
gossip of its suburbs, knows that this house of his has not opened
its doors to any outsider, man or woman, for over a dozen years;
nor have his gates--in saying which, I include the great one in
front--been seen in all that time to gape at any one's instance or
to stand unclosed to public intrusion, no, not for a moment.  The
seclusion sought was absolute.  The men and women who passed and
repassed this corner many times a day were as ignorant as the
townspeople in general of what lay behind the grey, monotonous
exterior of the weather-beaten boards they so frequently brushed
against.  The house was there, of course,--they all knew the house,
or did once--but there were rumours (no one ever knew how they