invited everybody that came to the house to go and see my watermelon.
They looked it over and said pleasant things about it. When I was a boy
people used to treat children and watermelons with a like solicitude.
Both were a subject for jests and both produced similar reactions in the
human countenance.

Aunt Deel often applied the watermelon test to my forehead and
discovered in me a capacity for noise which no melon could rival. That
act became very familiar to me, for when my melon was nearing the summit
of its fame and influence, all beholders thumped its rounded side with
the middle finger of the right hand, and said that they guessed they'd
steal it. I knew that this was some kind of a joke and a very idle one
for they had also threatened to steal me and nothing had come of it.

At last Uncle Peabody agreed with me that it was about time to pick the
melon. I decided to pick it immediately after meeting on Sunday, so that
I could give it to my aunt and uncle at dinner-time. When we got home I
ran for the garden. My feet and those of our friends and neighbors had
literally worn a path to the melon. In eager haste I got my little
wheelbarrow and ran with it to the end of that path. There I found
nothing but broken vines! The melon had vanished. I ran back to the
house almost overcome by a feeling of alarm, for I had thought long of
that hour of pride when I should bring the melon and present it to my
aunt and uncle.

"Uncle Peabody," I shouted, "my melon is gone."

"Well I van!" said he, "somebody must 'a' stole it."

"Stole it?" I repeated the words without fully comprehending what they