At the Proudfoot house, they saw no signs of the boys. Odo Proudfoot, Sancho's grandfather, was likewise out, but Prunella, Sancho's grandmother, welcomed them in and offered them some tea and cakes. No, the boys hadn't been there. She hadn't seen Sancho all afternoon. "I suppose they're in hiding, now that they're in disgrace. If you're looking for them, Mr. Gamgee, there're building a tree-house in the oak grove up the Hill behind Lobelia's house. Imagine, a house in the trees! Did you ever hear of such a thing? If they aren't there, you might try that shed in the Gammidge's cow-pasture. The lads used to hide there to smoke their pipes and eat stolen apples, but I don't think they go to it so much anymore, since Farmer Gammidge chased them off."
"You know what those two lads have been up to, Mrs. Proudfoot?" Sam asked her.
"Yes, Shirriff Smallburrows came and told me about it yesterday," the elderly lady replied as she filled Sam's tea-cup from a freshly made pot. "It sounds a terrible piece of mischief, but Sancho swore to me that he hadn't done it."
"Do you believe him, Aunt Pru?" Frodo asked in surprise.
"Well... no," Prunella admitted. "I have my doubts--I know that boy too well--but when he swears on his honor that he's telling the truth, I have to take him at his word even if I think it's a lie. How else will he learn what's decent? Besides, I can't be too hard on the child, if he aims his pranks at Lobelia. If any hobbit in the Shire begs for a pumpkin to be thrown at her, goodness knows it's Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. I've wanted to do it often enough myself."
"Did you see Lobelia on the day it happened, Aunt Pru?"
"Right before it happened, but not afterwards," answered Prunella. "Lobelia called on me the day before yesterday, just after she'd been over to her house. She was hopping mad. It was those people she rented her home to, the Twillings."
Frodo remembered hearing a little about the Twillings, a young couple from the north who hadn't had any children yet. "They only lived here a few months, didn't they? Why did they leave so soon?"
"Oh, they liked the house well enough, and they were good neighbors to us, but they got tired of having Lobelia as a landlady, even at a distance. She was forever trying to manage them from Hardbottle just the same as if she still lived in the house with them. According to poor Mrs. Twillings, Lobelia sent them so many letters about what they were and weren't meant to do while they were her tenants, they could never make themselves comfortable or feel at home. Once they were going to have a baby, they knew they couldn't abide by her rules any longer. I would've said they were as good tenants as anybody could ask for, but when Lobelia came here, she was angry about all the dilapidations to her precious house, and what she called theft."
"Theft?" Sam repeated, alert at the word.
"Oh, not the sort of theft your shirriffs would take an interest it, Mr. Gamgee. Lobelia allowed the Twillings use of the garden produce for their own table. And why shouldn't she? She could have no use for it all it the way up in Hardbottle, and better it be eaten fresh than left to rot in the earth. But when Lobelia looked in the garden, she found that they'd carried off more than she'd allowed and taken it with them. At least, she thought it must be the Twillings until she had that pumpkin thrown at her!" Prunella didn't sound very distressed, perhaps feeling that there was a sort of justice in it. "That put them out of her mind. She meant to go after the Twillings when she came here, only she doesn't know where they've gone and I certainly didn't intend to tell her."
"Where did they go?" asked Frodo. "Are they still in this neighborhood?"
"They haven't gone very far," answered Prunella. "They liked living in this part of the Shire. When I last heard from Mrs. Twilling, they'd taken a cottage near Frogmorton, and I hope they may be happier there."
After they left the Proudfoot home, Frodo took Sam to the now-empty Sackville-Baggins home, which was just a short walk down the lane. In the back garden was a pumpkin patch, growing weedy since the tenants had gone, but with obvious signs of recent harvesting. There were several small dents in the earth and patches of yellowed, long-flattened grass where pumpkins had lain, and the ends of the thick vines were freshly cut.
"Now we know where our pranksters have been getting their pumpkins," said Frodo. "So many could be so easily stolen only from an untended garden. If Lobelia hadn't come home when she did, no one might ever have noticed. Look, Sam, only the smallest ones were taken," he observed. "Why not the big ones?" A number of large and impressive specimens were sitting untouched.
"The little ones'd be easier to throw so high over the hedges," Sam said after a minute's thought.
"Yes, that's so, and easier to carry off as well. Even a couple of half-grown lads like our Will and Sancho would find it difficult to steal more than one large pumpkin at a time. They must be storing them someplace else, a place well hidden and more convenient for them. I suppose that's where they've gone into hiding now themselves. Aunt Pru said they were building a tree-house nearby." Frodo lifted his gaze to the steep slope of the Hill, rising behind the smial, and looked for a copse of oak trees. There appeared to be several. It would be a climb, especially if they were burdened with armloads of pumpkins, but two young boys determined to make mischief could manage it.
"We won't find 'em tonight," said Sam said; while Frodo had been scanning the hillside, his eyes were on the sky to the west. "It's getting on for dark, and it looks like there'll be rain. I promised Rose I'd be back in time for dinner. We'll have to hunt the lads out and give 'em a scolding tomorrow."
They made their way home toward Bag End arm in arm in the dusk, walking along the lane around the southern foot of the Hill. As they rounded the curve that brought them into Bagshot Row, a pumpkin came flying over the hedgerow that bounded the Party Field to splat in front of them. Another followed before they could recover from their astonishment. From the other side of the hedge came a muffled sound of childish, high-pitched laughter.
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