“Why, certainly. You surely didn’t suppose that they grew after they were picked.”
“But the stems is so little that I wouldn’t think they’d hold apples like I see in the grocery stores.”
“Why, but the stems grow, too.”
“Oh,” said Minerva.
Minerva’s ignorance of common things was a never-ending marvel.
“Who do you pay for these apples, Mis. Vernon,” she went on.
“Why, nobody. They go with the house.”
And then Minerva gave utterance to a wise remark.
“Ain’t it queer, Mis. Vernon, that in the country, where you don’t have to pay for apples, every man has apple trees of his own, and in the city, where you do have to pay, nobody has any?”
“Just what do you mean?” said Ethel, wishing (as she told me) to draw out Minerva’s thought.