152 FARM SPIES 



make good crops, but I would call him a very ignorant 

 man." He wondered whether there would be any 

 use to ask him about what Ed had said. 



Like every boy, Frank was never at a loss for words 

 nor schemes for getting what he wanted. 



"Mr. Whitney/' he said, "you have a very nice 

 farm. How many acres are in it?" 



"One hundred and forty/' Mr. Whitney replied 

 promptly. He said nothing more, and Frank saw 

 that a few more well-planned questions might lead 

 to the one he wished to ask. 



"You know, Mr. Whitney," Frank continued, 

 "when father and I came down the road this morn- 

 ing we saw several cornfields that had the stubble 

 left on them. I do not see any fields like that on your 

 farm." 



"Of course you don't; I never allow it." Mr. 

 Whitney said curtly. 



"I have to keep on asking questions to get him 

 to talk," Frank thought. " There was a corn stubble- 

 field across the road from Mr. Ed Cherry's place and 

 if nothing is done don't you think it will breed 

 windfalls?" Frank asked this question not knowing 

 what he meant by it, but he thought it would at 

 least bring him nearer to the question he wished 

 answered. 



"Yes, it will; yes, it will," the old man managed 

 to say, but not another word. 



