“Huh!”
“I mean, Mr. Finkler, boys don’t consider it stealing. It’s a—a sort of a lark, sir. Why, didn’t you ever steal apples when you were a boy?”
Mr. Finkler turned a somewhat startled look at Jack and quickly shifted his gaze back to the horse.
“Don’t know as I ever did,” he said cautiously. Adding, after a moment, “Maybe—once or twice.”
“Well, you didn’t consider it stealing, did you?” demanded Jack triumphantly.
“Huh! You ought to be a lawyer, young man. So you think those boys didn’t fire my hay, do you?”
“I’m sure of it, sir,” answered Jack earnestly. “And if you want to know something, Mr. Finkler, I guess when you accused us of doing that and refused to believe us when we told you we knew nothing about it you—you sort of made things worse. I mean that it made the fellows sort of angry to be accused of such a mean thing, and so they—they kind of set out to annoy you, I guess.”
“Succeeded, too,” said Mr. Finkler dryly.
“The fellows are willing to promise never to swipe any more apples or do anything to annoy you, sir, if you’ll let us have that piece of land. We do need it awfully, Mr. Finkler.”