Nobody likes Brayley 'round Millville. Why,
on'y las' winter he called me a meddler--in public!--an' said as I shot
off my mouth too much. Me!"
"How impolite."
"But that's Dan Brayley. My mellings at fifty cents is better 'n his'n
at fifteen."
"Tell me," said Patsy, with a smile, "did you ever rob a melon-patch,
Mr. McNutt?"
"Me? I don't hev to. I grow 'em."
"But the ones you grow are worth fifty cents each, are they not?"
"Sure; mine is."
"Then every time you eat one of your own melons you eat fifty cents. If
you were eating one of Mr. Brayley's melons you would only eat
fifteen cents."
"And it would be Brayley's fifteen cents, too," added Beth, quickly.
Peggy turned his protruding eyes from one to the other, and a smile
slowly spread over his features.
"By jinks, let's rob Brayley's melling-patch!" he cried.
"All right; we'll help you," answered Patsy, readily.
"Oh, my dear!" remonstrated Louise, not understanding.
"It will be such fun," replied her cousin, with eyes dancing merrily.
"Boys always rob melon-patches, so I don't see why girls shouldn't. When
shall we do it, Mr. McNutt?"
"There ain't any moon jest now, an' the nights is dark as blazes. Let's
go ternight."
"It's a bargain," declared Patsy. "We will come for you in the surrey at
ten o'clock, and all drive together to the back of Brayley's yard and
take all the melons we want.
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