CHAPTER 5The fog had broken up, and the sun was making white crystal of the girl’s dress as she leaned with a trowel to work at her garden. When Culver came to the edge of the lawn, he took off his hat and waited. The dog sat down with his muzzle pressed against the pocket which held the treasure. How to begin such a conversation as this, Culver had very little idea, so he stood waiting until the girl looked up.
“Do you want something?” she asked.
“I can’t say that I do, or that I have a right—” said Culver, and halted, finding that words came with difficulty.
“Should I know you?” she asked. “I’m no good at remembering faces. Or do you know me? What a magnificent dog! What a glorious dog!”
She held out her hand toward him; though his back was turned, he seemed to sense the gesture, and
