"Well—maybe," growled the mean farmer.
"Maybe won't do!" exclaimed Mr. Murphy. "I want you to take the wire fence down RIGHT AWAY."
"Well, I'm not going to do it. He interfered with me, and made that boy run away, and I'm not going to let him go up my part of the creek."
"Well, then, Mr. Hardee, if you can't do something for Mr. Bobbsey, as a favor, I can't do anything to oblige you. Mr. Bobbsey is a friend of mine and unless you cut your wire fence, I'll have to foreclose that mortgage, and take your house in payment for the money you owe me. That's all there is about it. Either pay me my money—or cut that fence. It must be one or the other."
Mr. Hardee squirmed in his seat, and seemed very uneasy.
"I—I just can't pay that money," he said.
"Then I'll have to take your house away."
"I—I don't want you to do that, either."
"Then cut the wire fence!" cried Mr. Murphy.
"Wa'al, I—I guess I'll have to," said Mr. Hardee, but it was clearly to be seen that he did not want to. He went into the barn, and came out wearing a pair of rubber boots, and carrying a pair of pincers—the "wire-cutting things," as Freddie called them.