"Not jess yit, wouldn't go fur t' pull 'em, honey, chile. Wait twell dey's growed 'bout as big as er coffee-cup, an' den jess bring yo' little toofies tergedder on de inside o' one of 'em. Yo's et oranges, an' yo's squalled hard w'en dey was gone, 'cause dere wan't no mo' of 'em. But yo' won't look at a orange when yo' kin git a cantaloupe." "Den me lets 'em drow," Ralph declared magnanimously, and it is but fair to the child to say that he kept his word. "Come and gather up all your sleigh-bells, then, Ralph," Jessie admonished him. Climbing down from Joe's lap he set about the clearance, awkwardly enough. The abbreviated skirt of his little dress was about half filled--he had made a kind of bag of it by gathering the folds tightly in one hand while he picked up melons with the other--when there came a knock at the door. Dropping the spoil that he had already secured, Ralph ran across the room to admit the caller, the melons rolling in every direction. Joe glanced at them apprehensively, and then gave his undivided attention to the harness mending. The visitor who entered the room on Ralph's hospitable invitation was our near neighbor, Caleb Wilson. Mr. Wilson glanced at the array of hard little spheres on the floor and laughed. "I'll bet a cent you've been up to mischief, youngster," he said, nodding to me as I handed him a chair. He looked smilingly at Ralph, who retreated to Joe's side, and made no answer. "Ralph, do you hear Mr. Wilson?" Jessie sternly inquired. "'Ess; me hears him." "Why don't you answer him, then?" "'Tause he didn't ask me nuffin'." Joe's sombre face lighted up; his white ivories gleamed out suddenly like a flash of sunlight through a storm cloud. To Joe's mind few people had a right to question the doings of a Gordon, of any age or degree, and Mr. Wilson was not one of the favored few. Our genial neighbor laughed. "That's right, my little man; I didn't. I made a statement, and you seem to be sharp enough already to see the difference." He had been carrying a covered tin pail in his hand. He now set it on the floor beside his chair, while Jessie, who had it much at heart that her little brother must be properly trained, remarked: "Ralph has been very naughty." "He'll come out all right; don't you go to worrying about him, Miss Jessie," Mr. Wilson admonished her, cheerfully. "He's nothing but a baby, anyway," he continued, "but what even a baby can want of all those little green knobs of cantaloupes is more'n I can tell, but seeing 'em calls to my mind a fruit speculation of mine, last summer." "I thought you were a cattleman?" I interrupted, involuntarily.