When we got to Canton people were flocking to the big stone Presbyterian Church. We drove our horses under the shed of the tavern and Uncle Peabody brought them water from the pump and fed them, out of our own bag under the buggy seat, before we went to the church. It was what they called a "deacon meeting." I remember that Mr. Wright read from the Scriptures, and having explained that there was no minister in the village, read one of Mr. Edwards' sermons, in the course of which I went to sleep on the arm of my aunt. She awoke me when the service had ended, and whispered: "Come, we're goin' down to speak to Mr. Wright." We saw Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg in the aisle, who said that they would wait for us outside the church. I remember that Mr. Wright kissed me and said: "Hello! Here's my boy in a new pair o' trousers!" "Put yer hand in there," I said proudly, as I took my own out of one of my pockets, and pointed the way. He did not accept the invitation, but laughed heartily and gave me a little hug. When we went out of the church there stood Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg, and Sally and some other children. It was a tragic moment for me when Sally laughed and ran behind her mother. Still worse was it when a couple of boys ran away crying, "Look at the breeches!" I looked down at my breeches and wondered what was wrong with them. They seemed very splendid to me and yet I saw at once that they were not popular. I went close to my Aunt Deel and partly hid myself in her cloak. I heard Mrs. Dunkelberg say: "Of course you'll come to dinner with us?" For a second my hopes leaped high. I was hungry and visions of jelly cake and preserves rose before me. Of course there were the trousers, but perhaps Sally would get used to the trousers and ask me to play with her. "Thank ye, but we've got a good ways to go and we fetched a bite with us--ayes!" said Aunt Deel. Eagerly I awaited an invitation from the great Mrs. Dunkelberg that should be decisively urgent, but she only said: "I'm very sorry you can't stay." My hopes fell like bricks and vanished like bubbles. The Dunkelbergs left us with pleasant words. They had asked me to shake hands with Sally, but I had clung to my aunt's cloak and firmly refused to make any advances. Slowly and without a word we walked across the park toward the tavern sheds. Hot tears were flowing down my cheeks--silent tears! for I did not wish to explain them. Furtively I brushed them away with my hand. The odor of frying beef steak came out of the open doors of the tavern. It was more than I could stand. I hadn't tasted fresh meat since Uncle Peabody had killed a deer in midsummer. He gave me a look of understanding, but said nothing for a minute. Then he proposed: "Mebbe we better git dinner here?" Aunt Deel hesitated at the edge of the stable yard, surrounded as she was by the aroma of the fleshpots, then: