But the postmaster's wife bent over and questioned kindly, and Marty told her about Tim and Uncle Eb and the pumpkins, and when she was through there were tears in the eyes of the postmaster's wife. By this time a crowd of men and boys had gathered. It bruised Marty's sensitive heart that they should laugh and joke about her precious pumpkins. When Uncle Eb came back with the team he was scowling, and when Marty asked him to let her pick up the pumpkins he said: "Let 'em go. I don't want 'em." And all the way home he was silent, and Marty sat beside him biting her lips to keep from crying. It seemed to her since her pumpkins were gone that nothing else remained in life. As she crept off to bed that night she heard Aunt Tucker say, "Now, Ebenezer, you see what comes from foolin' with children's bringin' up." All the next day Marty's heart ached, although Uncle Eb had said, while he was rubbing his curry-comb and brush together, "Never mind, child," in a tone that showed her that he was still kindly. Towards evening the Perkins boy came with the mail. "Here's a paper fer you, Uncle Eb," he said, "an' a letter fer Marty." Marty flushed and trembled. The whole family looked at her. She had never before received a letter. The Perkins boy was holding it out. "It's a fat one, too," he said. Uncle Eb took it, put on his spectacles, and turned it over and over. Then he passed it to Aunt Tucker, and Elly and Susie and John all had a peep at it. Marty stood with a rapt expression on her face and her heart was throbbing wildly. "Is it from Tim?" she asked. "No, Tim can't write," said Susie, impatiently, for Susie could not help being envious. "Here, Marty, open it," said Uncle Eb. Marty took it and tore the envelope with trembling fingers, Elly showing her how. Inside there was a fat letter, and inside of that a one-dollar bill. Little John's eyes were popping in wonder. Uncle Eb drew on his spectacles and sat down in his rocking-chair. Marty was so excited that she crowded up and held fast to his coat as if she feared the precious letter might fly away. It was from the postmaster's wife, and this is what it said: "DEAR MARTY,--I wish to pay you for the four nice big pumpkins that rolled into our front yard this morning. I've been wanting some pumpkins for pies ever so long, and they came just in time. Mrs. Brainard and Mrs. Peters also received a good supply. We enclose a dollar in payment. Come in and call on me when you go to see Tim, and have a piece of pie." Marty's eyes sparkled. It wasn't so much the money as it was the fact that the letter was written to her own self, and that some one in the Centre knew about her. The next day two more letters came--the postmaster's wife had done her work well--and when Marty counted her fortune, she had $4.25. "That's more'n we'd got fer the punkins at the depot," said Uncle Eb.