raided
into it. I didn't know where to look so I looked at the house. It was
very glistening. Blue it glistened. And green it glistened! And red it
glistened! And pink! And purple! And yellow!

"Oh, see!" I pointed. "There's old Mrs. Beckett's rose-vase with the
gold edge!--She dropped it on the brick garden-walk the day her son
who'd been lost at sea for eleven years walked through the gate all
alive and perfectly dry!--And that chunky white nozzle with the blue
stripe on it?--I know what that is!--It's the nose of Deacon Perry's
first wife's best tea pot!--I've seen it there! In a glass cupboard! On
the top shelf!--She never used it 'cept when the Preacher came!"

"The Deacon's second wife broke it--feeding chickens out of it," said
Old Man Smith.

"And that little scrap of saucer," I cried, "with the pansy petal on
it?--Why--Why _that's_ little Hallie Bent's doll-dishes!--We played with
'em down in the orchard! She died!" I cried. "She had the
whooping-measles!"

"That little scrap of saucer," said Old Man Smith, "was the only thing
they found in Mr. Bent's bank box.--What the widow was lookin' for was
gold!"

"And that green glass stopper!" I cried. "Oh,
Goodie----Goodie----_Goodie_!--Why, that----"

"Hush your noise!" said Old Man Smith. "History is solemn!--The whole
history of the village is written on the outer walls of my house!--When
the Sun strikes here,--strikes there,--on that bit of glass,--on this
bit of crockles--the edge of a plate,--the rim of a tumbler,--I read
about folk's minds!--What they loved!--What they hated!--What they was
thinking of instead when it broke!--" He snatched his long white beard
in his hands. He wagged his head at me. "There's a law about breakin'
things," he said, "same as there's a law about losin' them! My house is
a sample-book," he said. "On them there walls--all stuck up like
that--I've got a sample of most every mind in the village!--People give
'em to me themselves," he said. "They let me rake out their trash
barrels every now and then. They don't know what they're givin.'--Now,
that little pewter rosette there----"

"It would be nice--wouldn't it," I said, "if you could find a sample of
Young Annie Halliway's mind? Then maybe you could match it!"

"_Eh?_" said Old Man Smith. "A sample of her mind?" He looked jerky. He
growled in his throat. "A--hem----A--hem," he said. He closed his eyes.
I thought he'd decided to die. I screamed for Carol. He came running.
He