“Then somebody needs to teach him how to raise a sensible daughter.”
That statement changed the girl's expression.
She had tolerated jokes about the tractor.
She had tolerated laughter about her age.
But she would not allow a room full of strangers to insult the man who had taught her everything she knew about machines.
“My father taught me to look before I judge something,” she answered.
The auctioneer laughed.
“Well, maybe you should look again!”
She turned toward the tractor.
Then she reached into the front pocket of her overalls and removed a small, weathered notebook.
Its brown cover was cracked, the corners were rounded from years of use, and a piece of blue string held several loose pages together.
The auctioneer stopped laughing.
He recognized that notebook.
And for the first time since the auction began, his expression showed something other than arrogance.
“Where did you get that?” he demanded.
The girl looked up.
“It belonged to my grandfather.”
The auctioneer's face tightened.
“Put it away.”
She shook her head.
“Not until you tell everyone why you listed this tractor as an ordinary Model B.”
A few farmers stopped laughing.
The girl moved toward the side of the machine and knelt beside its grease-covered engine.
She wiped a small metal plate with a rag.
Then she opened the notebook and carefully compared the numbers written inside with the numbers stamped into the metal.
An elderly collector standing near the rear of the barn suddenly stepped forward.
“What did you say?”
The girl looked toward him.
“The catalog says it's a regular tractor.”
He approached.
“And you think it isn't?”
She nodded.
The collector crouched beside her, adjusted his glasses, and examined the plate.
For several seconds, he did not speak.
Then his face changed.
He removed his glasses.
Wiped them.
Put them back on.
And looked again.
“Good Lord,” he whispered.
The auctioneer stepped down from the platform.
“Stay away from that machine!”
The elderly collector ignored him.
He ran a trembling finger beneath the stamped characters.
Then he looked toward the girl.
“Where did you find this number?”
She held up the notebook.
“My grandpa wrote it down thirty-eight years ago.”