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Page 4
"Don't you see what I'm doing?" replied Shuffles, with an impudent
coolness which confounded Harry.
"Stop that, Shuffles!" cried Harry, indignantly. "My uncle wouldn't take
ten dollars apiece for those peaches."
"That's more than he'll get for them," added Shuffles, as he reached up
and gathered another peach.
"Stop that, I tell you!" said Harry, angrily, as he stepped up, in a
menacing attitude, before the reckless marauder.
"Shut up, Harry! You know me, and when I get all these peaches, I've got
something to say to you."
Shuffles was about to gather another of the peaches, when Harry, his
indignation overcoming his prudence, grasped his arm, and pulled him
away from the tree.
"What do you mean, Harry Martyn?" exclaimed Shuffles, apparently
astonished at the temerity of the youth. "I can't stop to lick you now;
but I'll do it within twenty-four hours."
"Well, don't you touch those peaches, then."
"Yes, I will touch them. I intend to have the whole of them; and if you
say a word to your uncle or any one else about it, I'll pulverize that
head of yours."
"No, you won't! You shall not have those peaches, anyhow," replied the
resolute little fellow, who was no match, physically, for Shuffles.
"If you open your mouth----"
"Hallo! Uncle Robert! Help, help! Thieves in the garden!" shouted Harry,
who certainly had no defect of the lungs.
"Take that, you little monkey!" said Shuffles, angrily, as he struck the
little fellow a heavy blow on the side of the head with his fist, which
knocked him down. "I'll fix you the next, time I see you."
Shuffles consulted his discretion rather than his valor, now that the
alarm had been given, and retreated towards the place where he had
entered garden.
"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Mr. Lowington, as he rushed over the
bridge, followed by the gardener and his assistants, just as Harry was
picking himself up and rubbing his head.
"They were stealing your peaches, and I tried to stop them," replied
Harry. "They have taken some of them now."
Mr. Lowington glanced at the favorite tree, and his brow lowered with
anger and vexation. His paper before the "Pomological" could be
illustrated by only nine peaches, instead of thirteen.
"Who stole them, Harry?" demanded the disappointed fruit-grower.
The nephew hesitated a moment, and the question was repeated with more
sternness.
"Robert Shuffles; Isaac Monroe was with him, but he didn't take any of
the peaches."
"What is the matter with your head, Harry?" asked his uncle, when he
observed him rubbing the place where the blow had fallen.
"Shuffles struck me and knocked me down, when I called out for you."
"Did he? Where is he now?"
"He and Monroe ran up the walk to the back of the garden."
"That boy shall be taken care of," continued Mr. Lowington, as he walked
up the path towards the point where the marauders had entered. "The
Academy is fast becoming a nuisance to the neighborhood, because there
is neither order nor discipline among the students."
The thieves had escaped, and as it would be useless to follow them, Mr.
Lowington went back to the house; but he was too much annoyed at the
loss of his splendid peaches, which were to figure so prominently before
the "Pomological," to permit the matter to drop without further notice.
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