CHAPTER XXIV.
PEGGY HAS REVENGE.
Joe Wegg made a rapid recovery, his strength returning under theinfluence of pleasant surroundings and frequent visits from Ethel andUncle John's three nieces. Not a word was hinted to either the invalidor the school teacher regarding the inquiries Mr. Merrick was makingabout the deed to the Bogue timber lands, which, if found, would makethe young couple independent. Joe was planning to exploit a new patentas soon as he could earn enough to get it introduced, and Ethelexhibited a sublime confidence in the boy's ability that rendered allquestion of money insignificant.
Joe's sudden appearance in the land of his birth and his generallysmashed up condition were a nine days' wonder in Millville. The gossipswanted to know all the whys and wherefores, but the boy kept his room inthe hotel, or only walked out when accompanied by Ethel or one of thethree nieces. Sometimes they took him to ride, as he grew better, andthe fact that Joe "were hand an' glove wi' the nabobs" lent him adistinction he had never before possessed.
McNutt, always busy over somebody else's affairs, was very curious toknow what had caused the accident Joe had suffered. Notwithstanding thelittle affair of the letter, in which he had not appeared with especialcredit, Peggy made an effort to interview the young man that resulted inhis complete discomfiture. But that did not deter him from indulging invarious vivid speculations about Joe Wegg, which the simple villagerslistened to with attention. For one thing, he confided to "the boys" atthe store that, in his opinion, the man who had murdered Cap'n Wegg hadtried to murder his son also, and it wasn't likely Joe could manage toescape him a second time. Another tale evolved from Peggy's fertileimagination was that Joe, being about to starve to death in the city,had turned burglar and been shot in the arm in an attempt athousebreaking.
"Wouldn't be s'prised," said the agent, in an awed voice, "ef the p'licewas on his track now. P'raps there's a reward offered, boys; let's keepan eye on him!"
He waylaid the nieces once or twice, and tried to secure from them averification of his somber suspicions, which they mischievouslyfostered.
The girls found him a source of much amusement, and relieved their owndisappointment at finding the "Wegg Mystery" a pricked bubble by gettingMcNutt excited over many sly suggestions of hidden crimes. They knew hewas harmless, for even his neighbors needed proof of any assertion hemade; moreover, the investigation Uncle John was making would soon setmatters right; so the young ladies did not hesitate to "have fun" at thelittle agent's expense.
One of McNutt's numerous occupations was raising a "patch" ofwatermelons each year on the lot back of the house. These he hadfostered with great care since the plants had first sprouted through thesoil, and in these late August days two or three hundreds of fine, bigmelons were just getting ripe. He showed the patch with much pride oneday to the nieces, saying:
"Here's the most extry-fine melling-patch in this county, ef I do say itmyself. Dan Brayley he thinks he kin raise mellings, but the ol' foolain't got a circumstance to this. Ain't they beauties?"
"It seems to me," observed Patsy, gravely, "that Brayley's are just asgood. We passed his place this morning and wondered how he could raisesuch 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 staredbefore. "Dan Brayley, he's a miser'ble ol' skinflint. Thet man couldn'traise 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' dirtcheap at that!"
"That is too much," declared Patsy. "Mr. Brayley says he will sell hismelons 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 ferasking 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 honesterman 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 shotoff my mouth too much. Me!"
"How impolite."
"But that's Dan Brayley. My mellings at fifty cents is better 'n his'nat 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. Ifyou were eating one of Mr. Brayley's melons you would only eatfifteen 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 smileslowly 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. Whenshall we do it, Mr. McNutt?"
"There ain't any moon jest now, an' the nights is dark as blazes. Let'sgo ternight."
"It's a bargain," declared Patsy. "We will come for you in the surrey atten o'clock, and all drive together to the back of Brayley's yard andtake all the melons we want."
"It'll serve him right," said Peggy, delightedly. "Ol' Dan called me ameddler onc't--in public--an' I'm bound t' git even with him."
"Don't betray us, sir," pleaded Beth.
"I can't," replied McNutt, frankly; "I'm in it myself, an' we'll jestfind out what his blame-twisted ol' fifteen-cent mellings is like."
Patsy was overjoyed at the success of her plot, which she had conceivedon the spur of the moment, as most clever plots are conceived. On theway home she confided to her cousins a method of securing revenge uponthe agent for selling them the three copies of the "Lives ofthe Saints."
"McNutt wants to get even with Brayley, he says, and we want to get evenwith McNutt. I think our chances are best, don't you?" she asked.
And they decided to join the conspiracy.
There was some difficulty escaping from Uncle John and the Major thatnight, but Patsy got them interested in a game of chess that was likelyto last some hours, while Beth stole to the barn and harnessed Joe tothe surrey. Soon the others slipped out and joined her, and with Patsyand Beth on the front seat and Louise Inside the canopy they droveslowly away until the sound of the horse's feet on the stones was nolonger likely to betray them.
McNutt was waiting for them when they quietly drew up before his house.The village was dark and silent, for its inhabitants retired early tobed. By good fortune the sky was overcast with heavy clouds and not eventhe glimmer of a star relieved the gloom.
They put McNutt on the back seat with Louise, cautioned him to be quiet,and then drove away. Dan Brayley's place was two miles distant, but inanswer to Peggy's earnest inquiry if she knew the way Beth declared shecould find it blind-folded. In a few moments Louise had engaged theagent in a spirited discussion of the absorbing "mystery" and sooccupied his attention that he paid no heed to the direction they hadtaken. The back seat was hemmed in by side curtains and the canopy, soit would be no wonder if he lost all sense of direction, even had notthe remarks of the girl at his side completely absorbed him.
Beth drove slowly down the main street, up a lane, back by the lake roadand along the street again; and this programme was repeated severaltimes, until she thought a sufficient distance had been covered toconvince the agent they had arrived at Brayley's. They way was pitchdark, but the horse was sensible enough to keep in the middle of theroad, so they met with no accident more than to jolt over a stonenow and then.
But now the most difficult part of the enterprise lay be
fore them. Thegirls turned down the lane back of the main street and bumped over theruts until they thought they had arrived at a spot opposite McNutt's ownmelon patch.
"What's wrong?" asked the agent, as they suddenly stopped with a jerk.
"This ought to be Brayley's," said Beth; "but it's so dark I'm notcertain just where we are."
McNutt thrust his head out and peered into the blackness.
"Drive along a little," he whispered.
The girl obeyed.
"Stop--stop!" said he, a moment later. "I think that's them contwistedfifteen-cent mellings--over there!"
They all got out and Beth tied the horse to the fence. Peggy climbedover and at once whispered:
"Come on! It's them, all right."
Through the drifting clouds there was just enough light to enable themto perceive the dark forms of the melons lying side by side upon theirvines. The agent took out his big clasp knife and recklessly slashed oneof them open.
"Green's grass!" he grumbled, and slashed another.
Patsy giggled, and the others felt a sudden irresistible impulse to joinher.
"Keep still!" cautioned McNutt. "Wouldn't ol' Dan be jest ravin' ef heknew this? Say--here's a ripe one. Hev a slice."
They all felt for the slices he offered and ate the fruit without beingable to see it. But it really tasted delicious.
As the girls feasted they heard a crunching sound and inquired in lowvoices what it was.
McNutt was stumping over the patch and plumping his wooden foot intoevery melon he could find, smashing them wantonly against the ground.The discovery filled them with horror. They had thought inducing theagent to rob his own patch of a few melons, while under the delusionthat they belonged to his enemy Brayley, a bit of harmless fun; but herewas the vindictive fellow actually destroying his own property by thewholesale.
"Oh, don't! Please don't, Mr. McNutt!" pleaded Patsy, in frightenedaccents.
"Yes, I will," declared the agent, stubbornly. "I'll git even with DanBrayley fer once in my life, ef I never do another thing, by gum!"
"But it's wrong--it's wicked!" protested Beth.
"Can't help it; this is my chance, an' I'll make them bum fifteen-centmellings look like a penny a piece afore I gits done with 'em."
"Never mind, girls," whispered Louise. "It's the law of retribution.Poor Peggy will be sorry for this tomorrow."
The man had not the faintest suspicion where he was. He knew his ownmelon patch well enough, having worked in it at times all the summer;but he had never climbed over the fence and approached it from the rearbefore, so it took on a new aspect to him from this point of view, andmoreover the night was dark enough to deceive anybody.
If he came across an especially big melon McNutt would lug it to thecarriage and dump it in. And so angry and energetic was the little manthat in a brief space the melon patch was a scene of awful devastation,and the surrey contained all the fruit that survived the massacre.
Beth unhitched the horse and they all took their places in the carriageagain, having some difficulty to find places for their feet on accountof the cargo of melons. McNutt was stowed away inside, with Louise, andthey drove away up the lane. The agent was jubilant and triumphant, andchuckled in gleeful tones that thrilled the girls with remorse as theyremembered the annihilation of McNutt's cherished melons.
"Ol' Dan usu'lly has a dorg," said Peggy, between his fits of laughter;"but I guess he had him chained up ternight."
"I'm not positively sure that was Brayley's place," remarked Beth; "it'sso very dark."
"Oh, it were Brayley's, all right," McNutt retorted. "I could tell bythe second-class taste o' them mellings, an' their measley little size.Them things ain't a circumstance to the kind I raise."
"Are you sure?" asked Louise.
"Sure's shootln'. Guess I'm a jedge o' mellings, when I sees 'em."
"No one could see tonight," said Beth.
"Feelin's jest the same," declared the little man, confidently.
After wandering around a sufficient length of time to allay suspicion,Beth finally drew up before McNutt's house again.
"I'll jest take my share o' them mellings," said Peggy, as he alighted."They ain't much 'count, bein' Brayley's; but it'll save me an' the ol'woman from eatin' our own, or perhaps I kin sell 'em to Sam Cotting."
He took rather more than his share of the spoils, but the girls had novoice to object. They were by this time so convulsed with suppressedmerriment that they had hard work not to shriek aloud their laughter.For, in spite of the tragic revelations the morrow would bring forth,the situation was so undeniably ridiculous that they could not resistits humor.
"I've had a heap o' fun," whispered McNutt. "Good night, gals. Ef yedidn't belong to thet gum-twisted nabob, ye'd be some pun'kins."
"Thank you, Mr. McNutt. Good night."
And it was not until well on their journey to the farm that the girlsfinally dared to abandon further restraint. Then, indeed, they made thegrim, black hills of the plateau resound to the peals of theirmerry laughter.