Then his eye caught the look of dejection in my gait and figure. He
hurried toward me. He stopped as I came sobbing to his feet.

"Why, what's the matter?" he asked gently, as he took the tea cup from
my hand, and sat down upon his heels.

I could only fall into his arms and express myself in the grief of
childhood. He hugged me close and begged me to tell him what was the
matter.

"That Wills boy stole my melon," I said, and the words came slow with
sobs.

"Oh, no he didn't," said Uncle Peabody.

"Yes he did. I saw a piece o' the rin'."

"Well by--" said Uncle Peabody, stopping, as usual, at the edge of the
precipice.

"He's a snake," I added.

"And you fit and he scratched you up that way?"

"I scratched him, too."

"Don't you say a word about it to Aunt Deel. Don't ever speak o' that
miserable melon ag'in to anybody. You scoot around to the barn, an' I'll
be there in a minute and fix ye up."