"I was very sure of that," Neale said quickly. "Let me read it to you, sir. You see it's written on your own stationery."
"I see that," admitted the farmer. "Oh, yes; I see that."
"'_Mr. Curtis G. Marks_, "'_Principal Milton High School._
"'DEAR SIR: Mr. Robert Buckham wishes to bring to your attention the fact that on May twenty-third last, a party of your girls, including the members of the first basket ball team, on their way home from Fleeting, were delayed by an accident to the car, right beside his strawberry field; and that the girls named below entered the field without permission, and picked and ate a quantity of berries, beside destroying some vines. Mr. Buckham wishes to call your serious attention to the matter and may yet take steps to punish the culprits himself.'"
Then followed the names of all the girls whom Mr. Marks considered it his duty to punish. There was no signature at all to the letter; but it purported to come from the old farmer, and to be written at his instance.
"I dunno as ye kin call it forgery," muttered Mr. Buckham; "but it's blamed mean--that's what it is! It gives me a black eye with these gals, and the gals a black eye with the teacher. Sho! it's a real mean thing to do."
"But who did it?" demanded Neale, earnestly.
"Ya-as! That's the question," returned Mr. Bob Buckham. "If we knowed that----"
The old man eyed him contemplatively. "You suspect somebody," he said.
"Well! and so do you," declared the boy, warmly. "Only you've got some evidence, and we haven't."
"You must know who would have a chance to get your letter paper and write such a letter as that?"
"Humph!" repeated the old man, reflectively.
"I don't know how that girl came to be out here. But you know you saw her--and like enough she spoke of the strawberry raid--and she went in to see Mrs. Buckham--and she saw the writing paper----"
All the time that Neale was drawling out these phrases he was watching the old farmer's grim face keenly for some flicker of emotion. But it was just as expressionless as a face of stone.
"It's fine weather, we're having, Neale," said Mr. Buckham, finally.
At that the boy lost his temper. "I tell you it's a mean shame!" he cried. "Poor Aggie can't act in that old play, and she wants to. And Trix Severn is spoiling the whole show, and she oughtn't to be allowed to. And if she was the cause of making all these other girls get punished, she ought to be shown up."