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"Oh, it were Brayley's, all right," McNutt retorted. "I could tell by the second-class taste o' them mellings, an' their measley little size. Them things ain't a circumstance to the kind I raise." "Are you sure?" asked Louise. "Sure's shootln'. Guess I'm a jedge o' mellings, when I sees 'em." "No one could see tonight," said Beth. "Feelin's jest the same," declared the little man, confidently.
"It'll serve him right," said Peggy, delightedly. "Ol' Dan called me a meddler onc't in public an' I'm bound t' git even with him." "Don't betray us, sir," pleaded Beth. "I can't," replied McNutt, frankly; "I'm in it myself, an' we'll jest find out what his blame-twisted ol' fifteen-cent mellings is like."
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.
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!"
"What's wrong?" asked the agent, as they suddenly stopped with a jerk. "This ought to be Brayley's," said Beth; "but it's so dark I'm not certain just where we are." McNutt thrust his head out and peered into the blackness. "Drive along a little," he whispered. The girl obeyed. "Stop stop!" said he, a moment later. "I think that's them contwisted fifteen-cent mellings over there!"
"I'll git even with Dan Brayley fer once in my life, ef I never do another thing, by gum!" "But it's wrong it's wicked!" protested Beth. "Can't help it; this is my chance, an' I'll make them bum fifteen-cent mellings look like a penny a piece afore I gits done with 'em." "Never mind, girls," whispered Louise. "It's the law of retribution. Poor Peggy will be sorry for this tomorrow."
The following was scrawled upon a sheet of soiled stationery: "John Merrak, esquare, to Marshall McMahon McNutt, detter. "To yur gals Smashin' 162 mellings at 50 cents a one .....................$81.00 Pleas remitt & save trouble." The nieces screamed, laughing until they cried, while Uncle John spluttered, smiled, beamed, and then requested an explanation.
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."
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.
An' Brayley's a cheat an' a rascal, while a honester man ner me don't breathe. 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.
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