“Well, well! What’s done is done. I pity your stomachs, that’s all I can say.”
Oh, dear! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t comfortable to deal with—not a bit easy in fact—and never had been.
Johnny Blossom was glad enough to get out into the garden with Tellef again. The heap of apples under the gooseberry bushes was divided with great exactness. Aunt Grenertsen could not see over there from her window.
The boys walked slowly and lingered much on the way home, munching apples all the time; and their well-stuffed blouses were noticeably less bulging when the boys finally parted at Johnny Blossom’s gate.
“How did the harvesting of Aunt Grenertsen’s apples go this afternoon?” asked Mother.
“Oh, very well,” answered Johnny.
“Did she have many apples?”
“Why, some were half-rotten or all rotten, and a good many were bruised”—
“But of course you were very careful how you picked them?”