Because you know what would happen: You allow a Dunkin' Donuts in and pretty soon all the white trash from Natick are flooding into town and stinkin' the place up. And then the buses start pulling in from, you know, Boston or even, gasp, Framingham, and before you know it, Wellesley is nothing but a ruined shell because everybody's moved to Dover.

Note: The one Dunkin' Donuts I love above all else is the one on Rte. 9 in WELLESLEY (granted, just before the Natick line), where, if the manager sees me walking in now, she just pours my coffee and rings up my sesame bagel (light cream cheese on the side), so by the time I get to the counter, I'm all set.

A place that sells coffee in 'small', 'medium' and 'large' is bad, but a place that sells charcoal-tasting cups of it in 'tall', 'Italian-20' and 'Spanish-great' is OK. And when you can't find the legal loopholes to drive 'em out, at least make 'em switch to the dreaded wooden sign.