They paused under the wide-spreading tree. What a fine orchard it was! Andrew pulled down a branch and felt of several apples, then found one with a soft side.
"There is a good half to that. I will cut it with my knife and the chickens may find the rest. There are plenty more."
"Oh, how delicious! I had almost forgotten the apples. Things ought to be sewn up in one's mind and never drop out. We have had none save some green ones to be gathered for sauce and pies."
"And there will be many other things. The peaches hang full. And there are pears, but the cherries are all gone save the bitter wild ones. Then thou canst find the squirrels again, and there is a pretty, shy little colt in the west field, with a white star in his forehead."
"Madam Wetherill has three little colts," she returned rather triumphantly. "And calves, and oh! such a lot of pretty, little pinky-white pigs."
He cut another apple and fed it to her.
"We shall have walks and thou shalt ride on a pillion. And I have found some books up in the old garret that have verses in them. Oh, wilt thou not try to be content?"
She felt it was naughty, yet she cast about her for other protestations.
"But I am not a Quaker. I say the Lord's Prayer aloud when I go to bed, over and over again."
"I like it myself," he returned reverently. "But one needs to desire—various matters."