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Updated: June 24, 2025
She lived in mortal fear that company would come and find her unprepared Alma Jones or Jabez Lincoln and his wife, or Ben and Mary Humphries, or "Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg." These were the people of whom she talked when the neighbors came in and when she was not talking of the Bayneses. I observed that she always said "Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg."
The collar was too tight, so that Aunt Deel had to sew one end of it to the neckband, but my tie covered the sewing. Since that dreadful day of the petticoat trousers my wonder had been regarding all integuments, what Sally Dunkelberg would say to them. At last I could start for Canton with a strong and capable feeling.
"I believe that Sally Dunkelberg is your friend," he said to me presently. "Yes, sir," I answered. "A fine slip of a girl that and a born scholar. I saw you look at her as the Persian looks at the rising sun." I blushed and Mary and her mother and the boy John looked at me and laughed. "Puer pulcherrime!" Mr. Hacket exclaimed with a kindly smile. Uncle Peabody would have called it a "stout snag."
"How did you get here?" "Dug Draper brought me. Do you know where Sally Dunkelberg lives?" "Is she the daughter of Horace Dunkelberg?" "Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg," I amended. "Oh, yes, I know her. Sally is a friend of mine. We'll get some breakfast and then we'll go and find her." He carried me through the open door of his office and set me down at his desk.
If you will solemnly promise, write these words and only these to my mother Amour omnia vincit, but do not sign your name. What a serious matter it seemed to me then! I remember that it gave Time a rather slow foot. I wrote the words very neatly and plainly on a sheet of paper and mailed it to Mrs. Dunkelberg. I wondered if Sally would stand firm and longed to know the secrets of the future.
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