"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. 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."