made a sound like the squealing of
a rat. Then he said to Uncle Peabody:

"Look at that man out there by the well! He's the richest man in this
section o' country. He owns half o' this village. I wouldn't wonder if
he was worth fifty thousand dollars at least. What do ye suppose he
spent for his dinner?"

"Three cents," said my uncle.

"Guess again--it was a cent and a half. He came in here and asked how
much were the doughnuts. I told him they were a cent a piece. He offered
me three cents for four of them--said it was all the change he had. He
and his boy are eating them with some apples that they had in their
pockets."

I remember how my uncle and the man laughed as the latter said: "His
wealth costs too much altogether. 'Tain't worth it"--a saying which my
uncle often quoted.

Thus early I got a notion of the curious extravagance of the money
worshiper. How different was my uncle, who cared too little for money!

At Christmas I got a picture-book and forty raisins and three sticks of
candy with red stripes on them and a jew's-harp. That was the Christmas
we went down to Aunt Liza's to spend the day and I helped myself to two
pieces of cake when the plate was passed and cried because they all
laughed at my greediness. It was the day when Aunt Liza's boy, Truman,
got a silver watch and chain and her daughter Mary a gold ring, and when
all the relatives were invited to come and be convinced, once and for
all, of Uncle Roswell's prosperity and be filled with envy and
reconciled with jelly and preserves and roast turkey with sage dressing
and mince and chicken pie. What an amount of preparation we had made for
the journey, and how long we had talked about it! When we had shut the
door and were ready to get into the sleigh our dog Shep came whining
around us. I shall never forget how Uncle Peabody talked to him.

"Go back, Shep--go back to the house an' stay on the piaz," he began.
"Go back I tell ye. It's Christmas day an' we're goin' down to ol' Aunt
Liza's. Ye can't go way down there. No, sir, ye can't. Go back an' lay
down on the piaz."

Shep was fawning at my uncle's foot and rubbing his neck on his boot and
looking up at him.

"What's that ye say?" Uncle Peabody went on, looking down and turning
his ear as if he had heard the dog speak and were in some doubt of his
meaning. "Eh? What's that? An empty house makes ye terrible sad on a
Chris'mas day? What's that? Ye love us an' ye'd like to go along down to