PEEP AT OUR NEIGHBORS. 131

‘Well, then,’? she went on—and oh,
how those words did prick me; I could
almost feel the old, dirty jack-knife cut-
ting into my flesh—<‘ well, then, I hope
you will not eat any more melons behind
the blacksmith’s shop.”

She said all this kindly, and with a
smile as sweet as ever. But if she had
made a pin-cushion out of my arm, I
don’t believe she would have made me
smart any more severely. But “I must
brave it out,” I thought. «It will not
do to own up to her. I should be dis-
graced forever. She would never speak
to me again. She did not see me hook
the melons. I don’t believe anybody