When he grew up to be a man, there was something he wanted very much, which was far more worth having than this apple puff. He wanted it so much that he sometimes felt he would almost give his life to possess it for ever such a short time; but somebody else wanted it too, someone who was weaker than he was, and who perhaps needed it more than he did, and Geoffrey gave it right up for the sake of that other.
I do not think he would have acted so nobly when he was a man, if he had not begun quite early in life to deny himself. If he had lost this little battle and had eaten the apple puff outside old Rachel's door, in all probability he would have lost that greater battle in after life.
"You are old Rachel, aren't you?" asked Geoffrey.
"Well, what if I be?" she answered.
"Come in," said a quavering voice as Geoffrey knocked, and on entering, he saw a haggard looking old woman, with a forbidding expression of face, and grey straggling hair, crouching over a small fire.
"You are old Rachel, aren't you?" asked Geoffrey, who had never seen her before.
"Well, what if I be?" she answered in a low gruff voice, "I don't want no one to come interfering with me, leastways a child. What do you want—eh?"
"I've brought you an apple puff," said Geoffrey, standing still by the door.
"Shut the door, can't ye," said Rachel shivering, "the draught's enough to cut one in two. An apple puff is it? That ain't the kind of food I want, I ought to be fed on arrowroot I tell ye, and sweet puddings and the like. But Jane never sends me what I need, it's either somethin' that's turned bad, or else what I can't eat."
"This is quite new and fresh," said Geoffrey, shutting the door and coming a little nearer, while he laid the puff on the table, "perhaps you've never tasted a puff—it's awfully good—I wish you'd try it."