extravagant.

"Come right in," he said, and I remember that when we entered the store
I could hear my heart beating.

He bought a pair of shoes for me and I would have them on at once, and
that made it necessary for him to buy a pair of socks also. After the
shoes were buttoned on my feet I saw little of Sally Dunkelberg or the
other people of the village, my eyes being on my feet most of the time.

The man took us into his office and told us to sit down until he could
write a letter.

I remember how, as he wrote, I stood by his chair and examined the
glazed brown buttons on his coat and bit one of them to see how hard it
was, while Sally was feeling his gray hair and necktie. He scratched
along with his quill pen as if wholly unaware of our presence.

Soon a horse and buggy came for us and I briefly answered Sally's
good-by before the man drove away with me. I remember telling him as we
went on over the rough road, between fields of ripened grain, of my
watermelon and my dog and my little pet hen.

I shall not try to describe that home coming. We found Aunt Deel in the
road five miles from home. She had been calling and traveling from house
to house most of the night, and I have never forgotten her joy at seeing
me and her tender greeting. She got into the buggy and rode home with
us, holding me in her lap. Uncle Peabody and one of our neighbors had
been out in the woods all night with pine torches. I recall how,
although excited by my return, he took off his hat at the sight of my