Jack looked down, and perceived a stout, thick-set personage in grey coat and red waistcoat, standing underneath him.
“Don’t you see what I’m about,” replied Jack, “I’m eating apples—shall I throw you down a few?”
“Thank you kindly—the fewer that are pulled the better; perhaps, as you are so free to give them to others as well as to help yourself, you may think that they are your own property!”
“Not a bit more my property than they are yours, my good man.”
“I guess that’s something like the truth; but you are not quite at the truth yet, my lad; those apples are mine, and I’ll trouble you to come down as fast as you please; when you’re down we can then settle our accounts; and,” continued the man, shaking his cudgel, “depend upon it you shall have your receipt in full.”
Jack did not much like the appearance of things.
“My good man,” said he, “it is quite a prejudice on your part to imagine that apples were not given, as well as all other fruit, for the benefit of us all—they are common property, believe me.”
“That’s a matter of opinion, my lad, and I may be allowed to have my own.”
“You’ll find it in the Bible,” says Jack.
“I never did yet, and I’ve read it through and through all, bating the ’Pocryfar.”