He showed the patch with much pride one
day to the nieces, saying:
"Here's the most extry-fine melling-patch in this county, ef I do say it
myself. Dan Brayley he thinks he kin raise mellings, but the ol' fool
ain't got a circumstance to this. Ain't they beauties?"
"It seems to me," observed Patsy, gravely, "that Brayley's are just as
good. We passed his place this morning and wondered how he could raise
such enormous melons."
"'Normous! Brayley's!"
"I'm sure they are finer than these," said Beth.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" Peggy's eyes stared as they had never stared
before. "Dan Brayley, he's a miser'ble ol' skinflint. Thet man couldn't
raise decent mellings ef he tried."
"What do you charge for melons, Mr. McNutt?" inquired Louise.
"Charge? Why--er--fifty cents a piece is my price to nabobs; an' dirt
cheap at that!"
"That is too much," declared Patsy. "Mr. Brayley says he will sell his
melons for fifteen cents each."
"Him! Fifteen cents!" gasped Peggy, greatly disappointed. "Say,
Brayley's a disturbin' element in these parts. He oughter go to jail fer
asking fifteen cents fer them mean little mellings o' his'n."
"They seem as large as yours," murmured Louise.
"But they ain't. An' Brayley's a cheat an' a rascal, while a honester
man ner me don't breathe.
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