Twice Addison and I tracked them home the next morning in the dewy grass, across the fields.

Time and again, too, they took our Bartlett pears and plums.
Addison wanted the old Squire to send the sheriff after them and put a stop to their raids, but he only laughed.

"Oh, I suppose those boys love pears and plums," he said, forbearingly.

But we of the younger generation were indignant.
One day, when the old Squire and I were driving to the village, we met Alfred; the old gentleman stopped, and said to him: "My son, hadn't you better leave me just a few of those pears in the old pound this year ?" "I never touched a pear there!" Alfred shouted.

"You can't prove I did, and you'd better not accuse me." The old Squire only laughed, and drove on.
A few nights afterward both pear-trees were robbed and nearly stripped of fruit.