“That boy is a rascal,” said Farmer Joel, when he heard what had happened. “I’ll tell the constable about him, and if he finds out where the peddler is staying I’ll have him arrested.” “And if I find him,” threatened Adam North, “I’ll set him out among the beehives and let him get stung three or four times. That will cure him of wanting to knock people down.” “Speaking of bees,” said Mr. Bunker to Farmer Joel, “did you ever find that swarm that got away?” “No, I didn’t,” answered Farmer Joel. “But I wish I could, for that was a valuable queen. I guess they’re somewhere in the woods, but I’m afraid I’ll never get them back.” Russ had a little bruise on his chin where the peddler boy had struck him, and Mother Bunker bathed the sore spot with witch hazel, which made it feel better. Aside from this little happening and small accidents that occurred from day to day, the six little Bunkers had wonderfully good times at Farmer Joel’s. They played all day long out of doors when it did not rain, and when it showered there was the big barn. As the summer passed many good things to eat ripened on the trees in the farmer’s orchard. There were apples, plums, peaches, and pears, and Mrs. Bunker had a hard time to keep the children from eating so much fruit that it would make them ill. One day they were all out in the orchard helping gather the apples. Farmer Joel, Adam, another hired man and Mr. Bunker were picking the apples and packing them in boxes and baskets to be sent away. Care was used in picking the apples not to let them fall, for if they were bruised they soon rotted. Apples that fell to the ground were not packed and shipped away with the best fruit. Farmer Joel was very particular with his apples. I said the six little Bunkers were helping pick the apples, but of course the four smaller ones could not do much more than pick up those that fell to the ground when the tree was shaken by the men climbing up in it. To their great delight, Russ and Rose were allowed to climb up some of the low trees. Mun Bun was running about in the orchard, laughing and having a good time, when he suddenly gave a howl, calling: “Oh, that boy hit me! That peddler boy hit me on the head with a stone! Look out for the peddler boy!” “What’s that?” cried Farmer Joel. “Is that rascal here?” Mun Bun sat down on the ground, and this time he cried real tears. “That boy hit me on the head with a stone!” he sobbed. For a time there was some excitement, the men coming down out of the trees to look for the peddler boy. But a moment later along came Ralph Watson from the next farm, and with him was his dog Jimsie. “Did you see anything of a peddler boy?” Ralph was asked. “No,” he answered. “I don’t believe Mun Bun was hit by a stone at all!” suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, looking at Mun Bun’s head. “I don’t believe that peddler boy has been here, either.” “But something hit me, Mother!” insisted Mun Bun.