She moaned and stumbled to her feet – still more asleep than awake. I wrapped my bathrobe around her and steered her out of my room and into the bat...room.The kitchen was quiet. Mum was poaching eggs and Dad was cooking toast. Neither of them was talking. They both gave me little smiles when I came into the kitchen but then went back to what they were doing without saying anything. I slumped down into my chair and watched them – trying to pick up on what mood they were in.I finally figured out. The owner had more than likely been a world traveler. He had definitely been a collector of many intriguing artifacts. There were medieval suits of armor, Civil War swords and rifles, African tribal masks, Aztec sundials, and other ancient relics. But, as far as Miriam was concerned, none compared to the small brass object that she discovered that afternoon in the bottom of the dusty steamer trunk. It looked like a squashed teakettle. A big handle at one end with a thin spout at the other. It. More

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