Nearly every one In Moreville knew Bob, some to their sorrow. But
in spite of his tricks he was well liked, even though some nervous
women predicted that he would land in jail before he got to be much
older.

It was a pleasant afternoon In June, and Bob had not been home from
school long when his mother sent him after the lard. As it
happened, this just suited the youth's purpose, for he contemplated
putting into operation a trick he had long planned against William
Hodge, the proprietor of the village grocery store.

So Bob trudged along, whistling a merry tune and jingling in his
pocket the money his mother had given him.

"He'll be as mad as hops," he murmured, "but it can't do much harm.
He'll turn it off before much runs out."

This may seem rather a puzzle to my young readers, but if you have
patience you will soon understand what Bob meant, though I hope
none of you will follow his example.

As Bob walked along he met another lad about his own age.

"Hello, Bob," greeted Ted Neefus. "Where you goin'?"

"Store."

"What store?"