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had gone into the house for his pipe, so the Bellas were taking the opportunity to bring the conversation around to Scout.
    â€œDid you hear what happened to our dog, Uncle William?”
    Now Uncle William brought his thoughts down to earth. He must have remembered Mama’s warning because he switched the conversation to another topic.
    â€œOh, the twins,” he cried with enthusiasm. “You two will want to see the twins—Castor and Pollux. Pollux is the brightest.”
    â€œMr. Tominski killed our dog!”
    â€œYes, Mr. Tominski killed our dog!” the other Bella echoed.
    Her voice was loud enough to carry into the house. Papa quickly appeared on the porch, but it was too late.
    â€œMr. Tominski killed Scout. He kicked him. We saw the black marks from his boot on Scout’s side. Mr. Tominski is a murderer!”
    â€œOh, hush,” Abigail said. “We’re trying to learn something about the stars.”
    â€œMr. Tominski is a murderer!” the Bellas said together.
    A light came on upstairs in Mama’s room. And in the square of light that fell across the bushes, I saw something move.
    A figure slipped around the edge of the light, but I saw the bright suspenders against the darker shirt.
    Mr. Tominski had been on the edge of the family, enjoying the stars with us. He must have heard the Bellas’ terrible words: “Mr. Tominski is a murderer!”
    Papa came around the porch on the run. “That is enough, Bellas,” he said as he joined us.
    â€œBut, Papa—”
    â€œIf you aren’t going to learn about the stars, go into the house.”
    My eyes searched the shadows for Mr. Tominski, but he was gone.
    â€œYou must not have loved Scout at all,” one of the Bellas accused, made bold by the darkness.
    â€œEnough!”
    The word rang out with such force that even the crickets seemed to fall silent.
    â€œAlbert,” Mama called from her window. “Is everything all right?”
    â€œYes, Lily.”
    The light went out in Mama’s bedroom. In the hush that followed, Papa said in a more reasonable voice, “I loved the dog very much, but there will be other dogs. There may not be another clear night to enjoy the stars during Uncle William’s visit.”
    There was another silence, and I thought I heard a twig snap in the orchard.
    I glanced quickly at Papa, but apparently I was the only one aware that Mr. Tominski was making his way home.

chapter twenty-three
    What Was Wrong
    â€œW hat is it, Birdie?”
    â€œGentleman to see you, sir.”
    Papa frowned. We were having our evening meal in the dining room and Papa did not allow interruptions. Also this was the first time that Mama had felt like joining us for supper since Adam’s birth, and Papa wanted it to be special.
    Uncle William had been in the middle of an explanation of what we had seen last night. “And if it’s clear tonight, I’ll show you—”
    In the mirror over the buffet I could see the other side of Papa’s face, which looked somehow even more displeased.
    â€œIt’s the sheriff, sir,” Birdie explained, twisting her apron in her distress. “He says it’s important.”
    Papa got up at once, crumpled his napkin, and laid it beside his plate. He left the room and closed the door behind him. We fell silent but could hear nothing.
    Grandmama said, “There’s probably trouble at the lumber mill.”
    â€œThe mill doesn’t operate at night, Grandmama,” Abigail said.
    Grandmama silenced her with a look. “Then at the bank,” she said. “I do believe bank robbers operate day and night.”
    No one seemed to have any more suggestions. Even the Bellas were quiet—awed, perhaps, as I was by the fact that Sheriff Walkins was in our front hall.
    The sheriff had never been to our home before, but I had seen him in town. He was a big cold-eyed man, whose size alone could have kept