In eager haste I got my little wheelbarrow and ran with it to the end of that path.

There I found nothing but broken vines! The melon had vanished.

I ran back to the house almost overcome by a feeling of alarm, for I had thought long of that hour of pride when I should bring the melon and present it to my aunt and uncle.
"Uncle Peabody," I shouted, "my melon is gone." "Well I van!" said he, "somebody must 'a' stole it." "Stole it ?" I repeated the words without fully comprehending what they meant.
"But it was my melon," I said with a trembling voice.
"Yes and I vum it's too bad! But, Bart, you ain't learned yit that there are wicked people in the world who come and take what don't belong to 'em." There were tears in my eyes when I asked: "They'll bring it back, won't they ?" "Never!" said Uncle Peabody, "I'm afraid they've et it up." He had no sooner said it than a cry broke from my lips, and I sank down upon the grass moaning and sobbing.

I lay amidst the ruins of the simple faith of childhood.

It was as if the world and all its joys had come to an end.
"You can't blame the boy," I heard Uncle Peabody saying.