The swift words, "Your money or your life," came out of my memory and rang in it. I felt its likeness to the scolding demands of Mr. Grimshaw, who was forever saying in effect: "Your money or your home!" That was like demanding our lives because we couldn't live without our home. Our all was in it. Mr. Grimshaw's gun was the power he had over us, and what a terrible weapon it was! I credit him with never realizing how terrible. We came to the sand-hills and then Uncle Peabody broke the silence by saying: "I wouldn't give fifty cents for as much o' this land as a bird could fly around in a day." Then for a long time I heard only the sound of feet and wheels muffled in the sand, while my uncle sat looking thoughtfully at the siding. When I spoke to him he seemed not to hear me. Before we reached home I knew what was in his mind, but neither dared to speak of it. People came from Canton and all the neighboring villages to see and talk with me and among them were the Dunkelbergs. Unfounded tales of my bravery had gone abroad. Sally seemed to be very glad to see me. We walked down to the brook and up into the maple grove and back through the meadows. The beauty of that perfect day was upon her. I remember that her dress was like the color of its fire-weed blossoms and that the blue of its sky was in her eyes and the yellow of its sunlight in her hair and the red of its clover in her cheeks. I remember how the August breezes played with her hair, flinging its golden curving strands about her neck and shoulders so that it touched my face, now and then, as we walked! Somehow the rustle of her dress started a strange vibration in my spirit. I put my arm around her waist and she put her arm around mine as we ran along. A curious feeling came over me. I stopped and loosed my arm. "It's very warm!" I said as I picked a stalk of fire-weed. What was there about the girl which so thrilled me with happiness? She turned away and felt the ribbon by which her hair was gathered at the back of her head. I wanted to kiss her as I had done years before, but I was afraid. She turned suddenly and said to me: "A penny for your thoughts." "You won't laugh at me?" "No." "I was thinking how beautiful you are and how homely I am." "You are not homely. I like your eyes and your teeth are as white and even as they can be and you are a big, brave boy, too." Oh, the vanity of youth! I had never been so happy as then. "I don't believe I'm brave," I said, blushing as we walked along beside the wheat-fields that were just turning yellow. "I was terribly scared that night--honest I was!" "But you didn't run away." "I didn't think of it or I guess I would have." After a moment of silence I ventured: "I guess you've never fallen in love." "Yes, I have." "Who with?" "I don't think I dare tell you," she answered, slowly, looking down as she walked. "I'll tell you who I love if you wish," I said. "Who?"