LITMIR.BIZ

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she likes apples."

      "Who doesn't?" demanded Dot, stoutly. "Come on."

      When they reached the fall pippin tree which, that year, was loaded with golden fruit, the two little girls were quite startled at what they saw.

      "O-o-oh!" gasped Dot. "See Billy Bumps!"

      "For pity's sake! what's he doing?" rejoined Tess, in amazement.

      The old goat had the freedom of the yard, as the garden was shut away from him by a strong wire fence. He liked apples himself, did Billy Bumps, and perhaps he considered the bagful that Mr. Seneca Sprague had picked up and prepared to carry away, a direct poaching upon his preserves.

      Mr. Sprague had reclined on the soft grass under the wide-spreading tree and filled his own stomach to repletion, as could be seen by the cores thrown out in a circle about him. Billy Bumps had approached, eyed the long hair of the "prophet" askance, and finally began to nibble.

      The luxuriant growth of hair that the odd, old man had allowed to grow for years, seemed to attract Billy Bumps' palate. Mr. Seneca Sprague slept and Billy gently nibbled at the hair on one side of Seneca's head.

      It was just at this moment that Tess and Dot spied the tableau. Billy Bumps browsing on Seneca Sprague's hair was a sight to startle and amaze anybody.

      "O-o-oh!" gasped Dot again.

      "Billy! you mustn't!" shrieked Tess, realizing that all of the "prophet's" hair was in danger, and fearing, perhaps, that, snake-like, Billy might be about gradually to draw the whole of Mr. Seneca Sprague within his capacious maw.

      "Billy! stop!" cried both girls together.

      At this moment Mr. Sprague awoke. Between the shrieking of the little girls and the activities of Mr. Sprague when he learned what was going on, Billy Bumps' banquet was quite spoiled.

      "Get out, you beast!" shouted the "prophet," but using most unprophetical language. "Ow! ow! ouch!"

      For Billy had no idea of losing what he had already masticated. He pulled so hard that he drew Mr. Sprague over on his back, where he lay with his legs kicking in the air, wild yells of surprise and pain issuing from him.

      Over the fence at the rear of the Corner House premises bobbed a flaxen head, and a boyish voice shouted: "What's the matter, girls?"

      "Oh, Neale O'Neil!" shrieked Dot. "Do come! Quick! Billy Bumps is eating up Mr. Sneaker Sp'ague – and he's beginning at his hair."

       CHAPTER IV

      THE BASKET BALL TEAM IN TROUBLE

      Billy Bumps backed away in time to escape the vigorous blow Neale O'Neil aimed at him with the stick he had picked up. But the old goat had managed to tear loose some of the hair on one side of the odd, old fellow's head, and now stood contemplating the angry and excited Sprague, with the hair hanging out of his mouth and mingling with his own long beard.

      "Shorn of my locks! shorn of my locks! Samson has lost his glory and strength – yea, verily!" cried the owner of the hair, mournfully. "Yea, how hath the mighty fallen and the people imagined a vain thing! And if there were anything here hard enough to throw at that old goat!"

      Thus getting down to a more practical and modern form of language, Seneca Sprague looked wrathfully around for a club or a rock, nothing less being sufficiently hard to suit him.

      "Oh, you mustn't!" cried Dot. "Poor Billy Bumps doesn't know any better. Why, once he chewed up my Alice-doll's best dress. And I didn't hit him for it!"

      A comparison of a doll's dress with his own hair did not please Mr. Sprague much. He shook his now ragged head, from which the lock of hair had been torn so roughly. Billy Bumps considered this a challenge and, lowering his horns, suddenly charged the despoiled prophet.

      "Drat the beast!" yelled Seneca, forgetting his Scriptural language entirely; and leaped into the air just in time to make a passage for Billy Bumps between his long legs.

      Neale, for laughter, could not help.

      Slam! went Billy's horns against the end of the hen-house. Mr. Sprague was not there to catch the goat on the rebound, for, leaving his bag of apples, he rushed for the side gate and got out upon Willow Street without much regard for the order of his going, voicing prophecies this time that had only to do with Billy Bumps' immediate future.

      The disturbance brought Ruth and Agnes running from the house, but only in time to see the wrathful Seneca Sprague, his linen duster flapping behind him, as he disappeared along Willow Street. When Ruth heard about Billy Bumps' banquet, she sent the bag of apples to Seneca Sprague's little shanty which he occupied, down on the river dock.

      "Of all the ridiculous things a goat ever did, that is the most ridiculous!" exclaimed Agnes.

      "There's more than one hair in the butter this time," repeated Neale O'Neil, with laughter.

      "I can't laugh, even at that stale joke," sighed Agnes.

      "What's the matter, Aggie?" demanded Neale. "Have you soured on the world completely?"

      "I feel as though I had," confessed Agnes, her sweet eyes vastly troubled and her red lips in a pout. "What do you think, Neale?"

      "A whole lot of things," returned the boy. "What do you want me to think?"

      "Mr. Smartie! But tell me: Have you heard anything about our basket ball team being set back? Eva told me she'd heard Mr. Marks was dreadfully displeased at something we'd done and that he said we shouldn't win the pennant."

      "Not win the pennant?" cried Neale, aghast. "Why, you girls have got it cinched!"

      "Not if Mr. Marks declares all the games we won last spring forfeited. I think he's too, too mean!" cried Agnes.

      "Oh, he wouldn't do that!" urged Neale.

      "She says he is going to."

      "Eva Larry doesn't always get things straight," said Neale, comfortingly. "But what does he do it for?"

      "I don't know. I'm sure I haven't done anything."

      "Of course not!" chuckled her boy friend, looking at her rather roguishly. "Who was it proposed that raid on old Buckham's strawberry patch that time, coming home from Fleeting?"

      "Oh! he couldn't know about that," cried Agnes, actually turning pale at the suggestion.

      "I don't know," Neale said slowly. "Trix Severn was in your crowd then, and she'd tell anything if she got mad."

      "And she's mad all right," groaned Agnes.

      "I believe she is – with you Corner House girls," added Neale O'Neil.

      "She'd be telling on herself – the mean thing!" snapped Agnes.

      "But she is not on the team. She was along only as a rooter. The electric car broke down alongside of Buckham's strawberry patch. Wasn't that it?"

      "Uh-huh," admitted Agnes. "And the berries did look so tempting."

      "You girls got into Buckham's best berries," chuckled Neale. "I heard he was quite wild about it."

      "We didn't take many. And I really didn't think about it's being stealing," Agnes said slowly. "We just did it for a lark."

      "Of course. 'Didn't mean to' is an old excuse," retorted the boy.

      "Well, Mr. Buckham couldn't have known about it then," cried Agnes. "I don't believe Mr. Marks heard of it through him. If he had, why not before this time, after months have gone by?"

      "I know. It's all blown over and forgotten, when up it pops again. 'Murder will out,' they say. But you girls only murdered a few strawberries. It looks to me," added Neale O'Neil, "as though somebody was trying to get square."

      "Get square with whom?" demanded Agnes.

      "Well – you were all in it, weren't you?"

      "All the team?"

      "Yes."

      "I suppose so. But Trix and some of the others picked and ate quite as many berries as we did. The girls that went over to Fleeting to root for us were all in it,

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