After wandering around a sufficient length of time to allay suspicion,
Beth finally drew up before McNutt's house again.
"I'll jest take my share o' them mellings," said Peggy, as he alighted.
"They ain't much 'count, bein' Brayley's; but it'll save me an' the ol'
woman from eatin' our own, or perhaps I kin sell 'em to Sam Cotting."
He took rather more than his share of the spoils, but the girls had no
voice to object. They were by this time so convulsed with suppressed
merriment that they had hard work not to shriek aloud their laughter.
For, in spite of the tragic revelations the morrow would bring forth,
the situation was so undeniably ridiculous that they could not resist
its humor.
"I've had a heap o' fun," whispered McNutt. "Good night, gals. Ef ye
didn't belong to thet gum-twisted nabob, ye'd be some pun'kins."
"Thank you, Mr. McNutt. Good night."
And it was not until well on their journey to the farm that the girls
finally dared to abandon further restraint. Then, indeed, they made the
grim, black hills of the plateau resound to the peals of their
merry laughter.
CHAPTER XXV.
GOOD NEWS AT LAST.
It was on the morning following this adventure that Uncle John received
a bulky envelope from the city containing the result of the
investigation he had ordered regarding the ownership of the Bogue tract
of pine forest.
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