Kit of Greenacre Farm | Page 3

in every word with tense appreciation of the
novelty. It was the first chance Mr. Hicks had had to make an arrest
during his term of office, and as a special test and reward of diligence,
Elvira had been permitted to come along and behold the climax with
her own eyes. But the twenty minutes stretched out into nearly an
hour's time and more, and Kit's heart sank when she beheld her father
strolling leisurely down the orchard path, just as Mr. Hicks hove in
sight.
Mr. Weaver hobbled beside him, smiling contentedly.
"Well, I guess we've got 'em licked this time, Jerry," he chuckled. "If
there's a bug or a moth that can stand that leetle dose of mine, I'll eat
the whole apple crop myself."

"Still, I'll feel better satisfied when Howard gets here, and gives an
expert opinion," Mr. Robbins rejoined. "He wrote he expected to be
here to-day without fail."
"Well, of course you're entitled to your opinion, Jerry," Mr. Weaver
replied doubtfully. "But I never did set any store at all by these here
government chaps with their little satchels and tree doctor books. I'd
just as soon walk up to an apple tree and hand it a blue pill or a shin
plaster."
Kit slid hastily down from the post as Mr. Hicks' black and white horse
turned in from the road.
"Hello," he called out, cheerily. "How be you, Jerry? Howdy, Philemon?
Miss Kit here tells me you've been harboring a fruit thief, and you've
caught him."
Kit's cheeks were bright red as she laid one hand on her father's
shoulder.
"Shad's got him right over in the corn-crib, Mr. Hicks. I haven't told
father yet, because it might worry him. It isn't anything at all, Dad," she
added, hurriedly. "We girls have been keeping a watch on the berry
patch, you know, and to-day it was my turn to stand guard up in the
cupola. I just happened to see somebody over there after the berries, so
I told Shad to go and get him, and I called up Mr. Hicks."
Mr. Robbins shook his head with a little smile.
"I'm afraid Kit has been overzealous, Hannibal," he said. "I don't know
anything about this, but we'll go over to the corn-crib and find out what
it's all about."
Kit and Evie secured a good point of vantage up on the porch while the
others skirted around the garden over to the old corn-crib where Shad
stood sentinel duty.
"My, I like your place over here," Evie exclaimed, wistfully. "You've

got so many ornaments out-of-doors. Ma says she can't even grow a
nasturtium on our place without the hens scratching it up."
Kit nodded, but could not answer. Already she had what Cynthy Allen
called a "premonition" that all was not as it should be at the corn-crib.
She saw Shad stealthily and cautiously put back the wide wooden bars
that held the door, then Mr. Hicks, fully on the defensive with a stout
hickory cane held in readiness for any unseemly onslaught on the part
of the culprit, advanced into the corn-crib. Evie drew closer, her little
freckled face full of curiosity.
"Ain't Pop brave?" she whispered, "and he never made but two arrests
before in all his life. One was over at Miss Hornaby's when she
wouldn't let Minnie and Myron go to school 'cause their shoes were all
out on the ground, and the other time he got that French weaver over at
Beacon Hill for selling cider."
Still Kit had no answer, for over at the corn-crib she beheld the
strangest scene. Out stepped the prisoner as fearlessly and blithely as
possible, spoke to her father, and the two of them instantly clasped
hands, while Shad, Mr. Hicks and Philemon stared with all their might.
The next the girls knew, the whole party came strolling back leisurely,
and Kit could see the stranger was regaling her father with a humorous
view of the whole affair. Shad tried to signal to her behind his back
some mysterious warning, and even Mr. Hicks looked jocular.
Kit leaned both hands on the railing, and stared hard at the trespasser.
He was a young man, dressed in a light gray suit with high sport boots.
He was, as Mrs. Gorham expressed it later, "light complected" and
tanned so deeply that his blonde, curly hair seemed even lighter. He
lifted his hat to Kit, with one foot on the lower step, while Mr. Robbins
called up:
"Mr. Howard, my dear, our fruit expert from Washington, whom I was
expecting."
And Kit bowed, blushing furiously and wishing with all her heart she
might have silenced Evie's audible and disappointed ejaculation:

"Didn't he hook huckleberries after all?"
CHAPTER II
MRS. GORHAM SMELLS SMOKE
"I was perfectly positive that