My First Apple

I had been working for about half an hour longer when I found I could
get no more, and this time I went a little way and called Ike from where
he was at work to move the ladder for me.

He came in a surly way, and then stared at me.

"Want me to move the ladder? Why can't yer move it yerself?" he
grumbled.

"You know I'm not strong enough," I said.

"Ho! that's it, is it? I thought you were such a great big cock-a-hoop
sort of a chap that you could do anything. Well, where's it to be?"

"Round the other side, I think," I said.

"No; this here's best," he cried, and whisking up the ladder I stood
admiring his great brown arms and the play of the muscles as he carried
the ladder as if it had been a straw, and planted it, after thrusting
the intervening boughs aside with the top to get it against a stout
limb.

"There you are, my lad," he said. "Now, are you satisfied?"

"Yes; and thank you, Ike," I said quickly. "And I'm very much obliged
to you about wanting to take the blame upon yourself about the broken
ladder and--"

"Here, I can't stand listening to speeches with my plants a-shrivelling
up in the sun. Call me if you wants me agen."

He gave me a curious look and went away, leaving me with the impression
that I had thoroughly offended him now, and that I was a most unlucky
boy.