It may be hot where ye
are, but it would be hotter for ye if ye were here, and
ye'd jist have the throuble o' movin'. Stay where ye are,
Pat, wherever ye are." He walked away leaving Mrs. McGuire
with the uncomfortable feeling that he had some way got
the best of her.
The Watsons had planted their potatoes beside the fence,
and did not dream of evil. But one morning in the early
autumn, the earliest little Watson who went out to get
a basin of water out of the rain barrel, to wash the
"sleeps" out of his eyes, dropped the basin in his
astonishment, for the fence was gone--it was removed to
Mrs. McGuire's woodpile, and the lady herself was
industriously digging the potatoes.
Bugsey, for he was the early little bird, ran back into
the house screaming:
"She's robbed us! She's robbed us! and tuk our fence."
The Watson family gathered as quickly as a fire brigade
at the sound of the gong, but in the scramble for garments
some were less fortunate than others. Wee Tommy, who was
a little heavier sleeper than the others, could find
nothing to put on but one overshoe and an old chest
protector of his mother's, but he arrived at the front,
nevertheless. Tommy was not the boy to desert his family
for any minor consideration such as clothes.
Mrs. McGuire leaned on her hoe and nonchalantly regarded
the gathering forces. She had often thought out the scene,
and her air of indifference was somewhat overdone.
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