I went to him and he laid a silver piece in the palm of my hand. Aunt
Deel began to hurry about getting dinner ready while Uncle Peabody and I
sat down on the porch with our guests, among whom was a pretty blue-eyed
girl of about my own age, with long, golden-brown hair that hung in
curls.

"Sally, this is Barton Baynes--can't you shake hands with him?" said
Mrs. Dunkelberg.

With a smile the girl came and offered me her hand and made a funny bow
and said that she was glad to see me. I took her hand awkwardly and made
no reply. I had never seen many girls and had no very high opinion of
them.

My attentive ears and eyes began to gather facts in the history of the
Dunkelbergs. Mr. Dunkelberg had throat trouble, and bought butter and
cheese and sent it to Boston, and had busted his voice singing tenor,
and was very rich. I knew that he was rich because he had a gold watch
and chain, and clothes as soft and clean as the butternut trousers, and
a silver ring on his finger, and such a big round stomach. That stomach
was the most convincing feature of all and, indeed, I have since learned
that the rounded type of human architecture is apt to be more expensive
than the angular.

As we sat there I heard the men talking about the great Silas Wright,
who had just returned to his home in Canton. He had not entered my
consciousness until then.

While I sat listening I felt a tweak of my hair, and looking around I
saw the Dunkelberg girl standing behind me with a saucy smile on her