He raised himself unwillingly, and went off to obey orders; one of the

work-women was sent to fetch some flat sieves; while from one of the

sheds I brought a couple of deep cross-handled baskets to each of which

a wooden hook was attached.

By the time we had walked to where the king-pippin trees stood with

their tall straight branches, Ike was before us with a ladder, with the

lower rounds made of great length, so as to give width to the bottom.

I had noticed this before when I had seen the ladders hanging up in the

long shed, and now asked the reason why they were so made.

"To keep them from tilting over when you are up there," said Old

Brownsmith. "Gently, Ike, don't bruise them. Ah! there they go."

For, as Ike thumped down the bottom of the ladder, and then let the top

lean against the tree, a couple of apples were knocked off, to come

down, one with a thud on the soft soil, the other to strike in the fork

of the tree and bound to my feet.

"Some on 'em's sure to get knocked off," growled Ike. "Who's agoin' to

pick?"

"He is," said Mr Brownsmith shortly.

"Then you don't want me no more?"

"Not at present."

"Then I may go on with my planting?"

"Yes."

"Ho!"

I could not help feeling amused at the way in which this conversation

was carried on, and the heavy clumsy manner adopted by Ike in going

away.

"There you are, Grant," said Old Brownsmith, "plenty of apples. What do

you say--can you go up the ladder safely and pick them?"

"Oh yes, sir!" I cried.

"And you will not fall?"

"Oh! I shall not fall, sir," I cried laughing.

"Very well. Up you go then. Take your basket and hook it on to the

round of the ladder where you are picking, then take each apple

carefully, raise it, and it will come off at a point on the stalk where

it joins the twig. Don't tear them out and break the stalks, or they

become unsaleable."

"I'll mind, sir," I said. "I know the big Marie Louise pears at home

used to come off like that at a joint."

"Good!" he cried smiling, and tapping my shoulder. "When you've picked

an apple of course you'll throw it into the basket?"

"Yes, sir."

"You'd better not," he cried sharply. "Lay it in as tenderly as you

can. If you throw it in, the apple will be bruised--bruised apples are

worth very little in the market, and soon decay."

"I'll mind them, sir," I said, and eagerly mounting the ladder I began

to pick the beautiful little apples that hung about me, Old Brownsmith

watching me the while.




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