The road smoothed a little, and Jack began to sing certain songs, those which he undoubtedly knew to be of a nature guaranteed to intrigue small, well-mannered boys, and Andrew and Charlie eagerly took up the task of learning the melodies and (most especially) the lyrics of these odes to bodily functions. They had never heard the like before, not even from Old Davey, whose sporadic bouts of cursing they had been thrilled to overhear on a few memorable occasions.

After a time, though, Andrew’s enthusiasm waned and he began to look around him. He was unfamiliar with his surroundings, and began to worry that they had been gone too long. Phil, he noticed, was eyeing him in an unfriendly fashion.

Jack seemed to notice this, too, and said, “Nearly there, Phil. Don’t git yerself huffed.”

Phil grunted and sat back.

“Lookit here,” Jack said, pointing ahead. “There’s the little town we been lookin’ for. Firecrackers’ll be sold at a place jest on t’other side of town.”

It was not much of a town, and Andrew thought he would be happy to be finished with their mission and on his way home again. To his surprise, though, Jack halted the buggy, pulling up across the street from a small store.

“Andy,” Jack said, “Charlie here says it’s yer birthday. Z’at true?”

Andrew nodded.

“Well, I think Mr. Andy here should get something special, then, don’t you agree, Phil?”

“Sure,” Phil said.

Jack reached into one of his pockets and produced a small coin purse, and from this, a quarter. He handed the coin to Andrew and said, “Go on, there’s a store right over there. Spend it on anything you like. Two bits, jest for yerself.”

One might think that a child raised among the luxuries of the Masters household might snub a mere twenty-five cents, but it was, in fact, the first coin that had ever been given to Andrew. Nothing so mundane as legal tender had ever before been allowed within his grasp: all purchases, all exchanges of money, were in the hands of his elders and their employees. Never before had he enjoyed anything that might be called his own money.

He glanced up from the coin to see a look of envy on his brother’s face. He knew what he saw there well enough-from not long after the day Charlie was born, Andrew had often worn that look of envy. The fair-haired, sweet-tempered Charlie was more often in favor with his parents and the servants than was Andrew, who tended to be what Mama called “a willful child.” This look of envy, coming from Charlie, was almost exclusively limited to those rare occasions when the boys were visited by their grandparents, the only people who looked upon Andrew with anything resembling favoritism. And now, staring at the shiny coin, Charlie was positively green.

For Andrew, the quarter’s value grew.

“Go on,” Jack was saying. “We’ll wait here for you.”

“I wanna go with you,” Charlie cried as Jack helped Andrew down from the buggy.

“It’s my birthday,” Andrew said, turning his back on his brother, skipping his way to the store.

The store was of a type his parents would undoubtedly disdain. The windows were dusty, as were the tops of many of the jars and cans on the shelves. But to a boy of seven with two bits in his pocket, it was a palace of curiosities-buttons and ribbons, pencils and pipes, razors and soap-all received Andrew’s study. He held his hands behind his back, not wanting to bring about the wrath of the palace’s king, a sturdy balding man who stood behind the counter.

The proprietor, seeing the fine quality of the material and workmanship in Andrew’s cap, shirt, knickerbockers and silver buckled shoes (few of his adult customers wore footwear as fine as the boy’s), and noting the youth’s quiet politeness, was himself all patience and kindness. Indeed, these were hard, lean years, and it would serve no purpose to turn away any customer. This boy’s mother would be along soon, he thought, rubbing his hands together.

Andrew continued to stroll slowly through the narrow aisles. The air in the store was redolent with what he found to be an usual mixture of scents: tobacco, leather, coffee, cheese, peppermint and vinegar. He saved for last an examination of the jars on the counter-horehound candy, licorice and all manner of other delights.

But each potential purchase was quickly dismissed as one other thought continued to occur to Andrew: taking home a piece of horehound candy or a peppermint would mean parting with his quarter. His lovely, shining quarter, with its full-figured Liberty seated in flowing robes, its eagle on the back. His hand closed tightly around it. No, it was his two bits.

It occurred to him that he need not spend his quarter in this store on this day, and the more he considered this idea, the better he liked it. The quarter itself was a prize, and if Charlie should nettle him, he would pull the shiny coin from his pocket and hold it before his younger brother. This thought of Charlie made him mindful of the fact that he had been in this store for quite some time now, and that Jack and Phil-especially Phil-might be angry with him for dawdling. He suddenly found himself uneasy over having left Charlie with only those two coarse men to keep him company. He bid the dismayed shopkeeper good day and left the store.

He was startled to find the street nearly empty and the sun much closer to the horizon. He controlled a growing panic only by telling himself that Charlie and the men had undoubtedly tired of waiting for him and had moved on to wherever the fireworks were being sold. He hurried down the street in the direction they had been traveling. After a few yards he began to run, but quickly reached the limits of the small town without seeing any sign of Charlie and the men.

Out of breath, he walked a little farther, feeling by turns angry and betrayed, then frightened for his brother, then worried and very alone. In this tumult of emotion his active imagination conjured up a variety of explanations for his situation:

– They had grown tired of waiting for him, bought the firecrackers and were now journeying back to Jefferson Road. (A vision that left him wondering why they hadn’t called to him, or fetched him from the store.)

– Charlie had become ill, and the men had rushed him to a doctor’s office. (Which led to a fruitless search among the few buildings of the small town.)

– The men had taken a different road back into town, had called at the store and learned that Andrew had already left, and were at this moment on the way home. (That this situation was his own fault, he was too ready to believe.)

– Charlie, angry over the gift of the quarter, had urged the men to trick Andrew, and they were at this moment laughing as they drank cool glasses of lemonade in the shade of the old oak. (Too unlike Charlie.)

Andrew, although cosseted and sheltered, was not a stupid child, and one last possibility took hold of his young mind. Perhaps the men had tricked both boys, and for reasons Andrew could not fathom, had stolen Charlie.

He felt hot tears fill his eyes, but dashed them away quickly. He wanted no harm to come to his brother, but he did not know what to do next. The thought of returning home without Charlie was unbearable.

He began to ask the few people he met on the street if they had seen Charlie or the men. Invariably, they had not. To his surprise, they were rude and brusque in their answers. These were hard people, he thought, nothing like the folk who surrounded him at home. The town and its few inhabitants suddenly seemed mean and low to him. He went back to the one place where he had been treated with courtesy.

The shopkeeper was less friendly this time, but politely told him that he knew nothing of anyone named Phil or Jack, had not seen a five-year-old boy named Charlie. When asked if he knew where firecrackers were sold, he proclaimed one could find them locally only in Andrew’s hometown.