CHAPTER XIII
PEACE GETS EVEN
"Peace, come here, I want to talk with you," called Mr. Hartman, leaning over the fence and beckoning to the child at work in her melon patch, measuring the mottled green fruit thickly dotted through the vines.
"It's grown two inches since I measured it last," said the brown-eyed gardener to herself, leaving her task to see what the man wanted. "Here I am."
"Do you know what kind of a mess you have got me into now?"
Peace looked her surprise, and answered saucily, "You don't fool me any more, my friend. You've teased me so often that it is an old story now. I know just what to 'xpect when I meet you."
At any other time he would have been delighted with this reply, but under the circumstances—for he was really much disturbed over her latest prank—her jaunty, don't-care air nettled him, and he said sharply, "This is no joking matter, Miss Greenfield, I can tell you that! Why did you tie red rags all over my pasture fence?"
"So's to keep the deacon's bull busy. We couldn't get those berries any other way."
"Well, I guess you succeeded. He broke one horn off and pretty near skinned himself, I judge. The only wonder is that he didn't tear the fence down and get loose."
"As long as he didn't, I shouldn't care about his horns," answered Peace with provoking indifference. "The deacon said I could have all the berries I could get, and he didn't say how I was to get them, either. I thought and thought, and I couldn't see any way out but the red flags. It worked beau—ti—fully. We got two buckets chock-full!"