listened
perfunctorily to the farmer's speech. Her mind was too perplexed about
the letter which had reached Mr. Marks purporting to come from Mr.
Buckham, in which he had complained of the girls stealing his berries.
Mr. Buckham spoke as though he had no knowledge of the information
lodged with the principal of the high school.

Now Tess and Dot saw "the eagle man" and they came clamoring about him.
Ruth came, too; and Neale followed. The boy had had no opportunity of
talking to the farmer alone the day of the chestnutting party. Now he
invited Mr. Buckham to go home with him to Mr. Con Murphy's for dinner,
and the old farmer accepted.

"That pretty, leetle gal's mighty bothered about her and her friends
playin' hob in my berry patch last May," Mr. Bob Buckham said, as he
and Neale crossed the Parade Ground. "How'd that school teacher l'arn
of it? Too bad! I reckon the gals didn't mean no harm."

"Why," cried Neale, flushing, and looking at the old man curiously.
"Somebody told on them."

"Told the teacher, you mean?"

"Yes. Wrote a letter to Mr. Marks giving all their names."

"Sho! ain't that a shame?" said Mr. Buckham, calm as a summer sea.

"Pretty mean I think myself, sir," Neale said warmly. "It stirred Mr.
Marks all up. He says he thinks you may intend making the girls pay for
the berries they took."

"_What's that?_" demanded the farmer, stopping stock still on the walk.

"He says your letter sounds as though you would do just that."

"_My_ letter?"

"Mr. Marks says the letter came from you."

"Why, Neale, you know I ain't no writest," gasped the farmer. "It ain't
possible he thinks I'd write him about a peck or two of strawberries?
They was some of my best and earliest ones, and I was mad enough about
it at the time; but, shucks! old Bob Buckham ain't mean enough to harry
a pack of gals about sech a thing, I should hope!"

Neale stared at him with a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Don't mean to tell me that Pretty thinks that of me, do ye?" added the
old gentleman, much worried.

"Yes, sir. She thinks you sent the letter."

"Wal! she treats me mighty nice, then. I'd des-arve snubbin'--I most
surely would--at her han's if she thinks I am that mean. She's a mighty
nice gal."

"She's the best little sport ever, Aggie is!" declared the boy,
enthusiastically. Then he added: "I knew it wasn't like you to do such a
thing, and it's puzzled me. But somebody wrote in your name and listed
all t