"Money," said Bartlett, "is all they want. They always fine all motorists for breaking speed laws. It becomes a sort of habit with them."
"This ain't breaking the speed laws," warned the Watermelon. "This is house-breaking."
"Sir," demanded the general, "do you accuse me, me, of house-breaking?"
"The whole damn family," said the Watermelon bruskly. He wanted to slip away quietly, whether the men at the gate were waiting for him alone or for all of them, having a tramp's dislike for anything that smacked of a possibility of falling into the hands of the law. "This is some different from speed-breaking," he added gloomily.
"This is preposterous!" cried the general. "That I, I, should be arrested! Why, I refuse to be. No one has a right to arrest me."
"If you break into another person's house, father—" began Henrietta.
"But, Henrietta, I am not a house-breaker. I deny the charge."
"We all are," said Henrietta. "That is all I can see to it."
"Money—" began Bartlett again, the refrain of his life. He felt he could not be arrested and haled before a magistrate, even such an humble one as a country justice of the peace. His whole scheme would be ruined. Batchelor would probably want to return to the city as soon as he could bail himself out, and not care to have anything more to do with motor trips run on similar lines.
"No," snapped the general, "we will have no graft."