"You better make sure of the guilty one before you thrash him," suggested Mr. Hartman, dryly. "That Abbott boy and the Greenfield girl are the ringleaders in all the mischief--by George, she's the one that did it! She vowed she'd get those berries, bull or no bull. If she has touched those bushes, I'll--" "No, you won't," interrupted the other man, rising to his feet with an angry light in his eyes. "If that child went to you and asked about those bushes, you don't lay hands on her in any way." "She didn't ask. She came and told me to tie up the animal so she could pick raspberries." "And you refused." "I rented that field, and you had no business to promise her the berries." "If you wanted them, why didn't you say so? They were going to waste on the vines. You merely asked permission to put your animal in there for a month while you were repairing your corral." "I didn't want the berries, but--" "That is all I care to know. You can take your property out of my pasture at once. I won't rent to such a man as you. Sue if you like, and see what you will get in court." "Very well, Hartman," fumed the fiery-tempered old fellow. "But I will settle even with you yet. Just remember that note of Lowe's, will you? It's apt to be called to your attention pretty soon in a way you won't like, I reckon, and you won't get a second's more time on it, either. You will find it ain't so funny to set up against _me_ in this neighborhood!" The irate man stormed out of the house, still shaking his fist threateningly, and Mr. Hartman, in a very disturbed state of mind, returned to his breakfast. 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."