One of McNutt's numerous occupations was raising a "patch" of watermelons each year on the lot back of the house. These he had fostered with great care since the plants had first sprouted through the soil, and in these late August days two or three hundreds of fine, big melons were just getting ripe. He showed the patch with much pride one day to the nieces, saying: "Here's the most extry-fine melling-patch in this county, ef I do say it myself. Dan Brayley he thinks he kin raise mellings, but the ol' fool ain't got a circumstance to this. Ain't they beauties?" "It seems to me," observed Patsy, gravely, "that Brayley's are just as good. We passed his place this morning and wondered how he could raise such enormous melons." "'Normous! Brayley's!" "I'm sure they are finer than these," said Beth. "Well, I'll be jiggered!" Peggy's eyes stared as they had never stared before. "Dan Brayley, he's a miser'ble ol' skinflint. Thet man couldn't raise decent mellings ef he tried." "What do you charge for melons, Mr. McNutt?" inquired Louise. "Charge? Why--er--fifty cents a piece is my price to nabobs; an' dirt cheap at that!" "That is too much," declared Patsy. "Mr. Brayley says he will sell his melons for fifteen cents each." "Him! Fifteen cents!" gasped Peggy, greatly disappointed. "Say, Brayley's a disturbin' element in these parts. He oughter go to jail fer asking fifteen cents fer them mean little mellings o' his'n." "They seem as large as yours," murmured Louise. "But they ain't. An' Brayley's a cheat an' a rascal, while a honester man ner me don't breathe. Nobody likes Brayley 'round Millville. Why, on'y las' winter he called me a meddler--in public!--an' said as I shot off my mouth too much. Me!" "How impolite." "But that's Dan Brayley. My mellings at fifty cents is better 'n his'n at fifteen." "Tell me," said Patsy, with a smile, "did you ever rob a melon-patch, Mr. McNutt?" "Me? I don't hev to. I grow 'em." "But the ones you grow are worth fifty cents each, are they not?" "Sure; mine is." "Then every time you eat one of your own melons you eat fifty cents. If you were eating one of Mr. Brayley's melons you would only eat fifteen cents." "And it would be Brayley's fifteen cents, too," added Beth, quickly. Peggy turned his protruding eyes from one to the other, and a smile slowly spread over his features. "By jinks, let's rob Brayley's melling-patch!" he cried. "All right; we'll help you," answered Patsy, readily. "Oh, my dear!" remonstrated Louise, not understanding. "It will be such fun," replied her cousin, with eyes dancing merrily. "Boys always rob melon-patches, so I don't see why girls shouldn't. When shall we do it, Mr. McNutt?" "There ain't any moon jest now, an' the nights is dark as blazes. Let's go ternight." "It's a bargain," declared Patsy. "We will come for you in the surrey at ten o'clock, and all drive together to the back of Brayley's yard and take all the melons we want."