The story so far...The following Saturday, Roscoe the family dog returns after being gone for four days. He is carrying a set of false teeth (a denture) in his mouth. When Belle gets the denture away, she shows Mom who cleans it off. The family tries to decide how to find the owner.





Dad broke the silence. "Well for starters, let's check with the neighbors. Maybe Roscoe charmed his way into the Swenson's or Mueller's house and found the teeth."

"Seems a little hard to believe," Mom said, "but I guess we have to start somewhere." She grabbed her car keys and put on her jacket. "I feel silly asking, and I doubt that we'll have any luck, but at the very least, we'll get the word out that we have the teeth."

"I'll run across the road and ask Mr. and Mrs. Swenson," I offered.

"Ok, Belle. Carl, how about I drive north up the road, and you and the boys go south." Zach and Jordan were excited about the search party.

I watched them head out in both cars turning in opposite directions, and then jogged across the field to the neighbors. The ground was wet, and I realized too late that I should've changed into my boots before cutting through the field.

The Swensons lived in a stately red brick farmhouse with a wide concrete porch. I climbed the stairs and stopped to catch my breath. The wicker chairs on the porch were weather stained; the weaving had come loose on the armrest. They were old and stayed mostly indoors. I seldom saw them except at church. They were always friendly after the service when we stayed for cookies and punch, even asking me questions about school.

Dad told me they had six children, but they were now grown and long gone. I couldn't even imagine the house with kids running all over the place. Mr. Swenson was a dairy farmer and used to have a large herd of Holsteins. But he'd sold off the cattle. Their large barn stood empty, the roof caved in on one side.

I knocked on the door and waited a long time. Finally, Mr. Swenson opened it. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt with a brown vest and had slippers on his feet. He looked at me in surprise. "Hi Belle, haven't seen you in awhile."

I found myself staring at his mouth to see if he was missing teeth but couldn't really tell. My mind went blank. What could I say?

"Come on in! We hardly ever have visitors. Not like the old days when there was always someone at the door." He stood aside and I reluctantly walked in, kicking off my muddy shoes. I was still trying to figure out just what to say without sounding rude.

"Have a seat," he said with a big smile. "I bet Mum has some cookies in the kitchen." He started to turn and walk away.

"Wait! I just want to ask you a question?"

His wife, short and round, came up behind him and gave a little smile, but without showing her teeth. I wished that I had planned a way to make them laugh so I could see inside their mouths.

"Go get the girl some cookies," Mr. Swenson told his wife and waved her toward the kitchen.

"Hey, wait. Are you guys missing anything important?" I kept staring back and forth at their mouths, hoping to get a glimpse inside.

Mr. Swenson pulled his eyebrows together and seemed to be thinking. We all had a moment of silence. Then he slowly shook his head. "No... nothing I can think of." He looked back at his wife. "Hurry up and get those cookies! The girl is hungry."

Finally, I just blurted out, "Are either of you missing your teeth?"

"What?" he asked, frowning at me.

I smiled nervously. "I mean do either of you wear false teeth?"

"Is this a joke?" Mrs. Swenson said sternly. "That's not a nice thing to ask. People our age are sensitive about their teeth. You shouldn't ask personal questions."

Mrs. Swenson added, "It's a private thing. Didn't your parents teach you manners?"

"I'm sorry, you don't understand. It's just that..." I didn't know how to put it.

Mr. Swenson straightened up. "Well, neither Ruth nor I wear dentures. I'll have you know that we both have all our own teeth." I could tell he was not happy with me.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to say anything wrong. It's just that Roscoe, our dog, came home today with false teeth, and we're trying to find the owner."

"Well, even if I did wear dentures, I wouldn't let your dog in my house." He was breathing heavily, clearly upset.

I quickly left and hurried back home, wondering if Mom and Dad had better luck at the other neighbors. There was no way I'd ask anyone else. Roscoe greeted me at the door with his usual delight, totally unaware of what he'd done. They were not back yet.

An hour later, Dad drove up with my brothers. I could tell by their faces that they hadn't found the owner. Mom arrived shortly afterwards. She struck out too. Mom took out ground beef and began shaping patties. The rest of us sat around the kitchen table. We each told about our visits to the neighbors. My story was the worst.

"Well, there's a lesson there," Dad said. "We'll have to be very careful about how we ask people." He got up and helped Mom get the food on the table. We all dug into the burgers.

"But what should we do?" I asked chewing my cheeseburger.

"Well, one thing we can do is put an ad in the newspaper. That way we can reach everyone in town," Mom said.

"We can't do that today, can we?" I asked, watching the sun drop inch by inch toward the horizon.

"No." Dad slurped up the last of the soup. "I'll stop over after work Monday. You want to come with?"