"What makes it grow?" I asked.

"The same thing that makes you grow," said Uncle Peabody. "You can do
lots of things but there's only one thing that a watermelon can do. It
can just grow. See how it reaches out toward the sunlight! If we was to
pull them vines around and try to make 'em grow toward the north they
wouldn't mind us. They'd creep back and go reachin' toward the sunlight
ag'in just as if they had a compass to show 'em the way."

It was hard work, I thought, to go down into the garden, night and
morning, with my little pail full of water, but uncle said that I should
get my pay when the melon was ripe. I had also to keep the wood-box full
and feed the chickens. They were odious tasks. When I asked Aunt Deel
what I should get for doing them she answered quickly:

"Nospanks and bread and butter--ayes!"

When I asked what were "nospanks" she told me that they were part of the
wages of a good child. I was better paid for my care of the watermelon
vine, for its growth was measured with a string every day and kept me
interested. One morning I found five blossoms on it. I picked one and
carried it to Aunt Deel. Another I destroyed in the tragedy of catching
a bumblebee which had crawled into its cup. In due time three small
melons appeared. When they were as big as a baseball I picked two of
them. One I tasted and threw away as I ran to the pump for relief. The
other I hurled at a dog on my way to school.

So that last melon on the vine had my undivided affection. It grew in
size and reputation, and soon I learned that a reputation is about the
worst thing that a watermelon can acquire while it is on the vine. I