"Let me see, where did I see them boys?" Mrs. Meadows pondered, drawing the yarn slowly through her fingers. "Gerild and Phillup, you mean? They passed through the yard right after dinner, I should say it was, on their velocipedies; going at a great rate, they was. Here's Jacob, mebbe he'll know."
Jacob, massive and comely, in his customary blue overalls, entered, beaming shyly. "Good mornin', ladies!" he said. "Mother treatin' you well?"
"Very well, Jacob!" said Bell. "We are having a spinning lesson, and find it very interesting."
"I want to know. Well, I allers got on without that branch of edication myself," said Jacob. He was standing near the door, and the girls noticed that he kept his hands behind him.
"Mother, ain't you give the girls no apples?" he said.
"There!" cried Mrs. Meadows, apologetically. "I never thought on't."
"Now, ain't that a sight!" said Jacob, reprovingly. "I thought I could trust you not to let 'em starve, mother, but yet someways I felt I ought to bring the apples myself. I dono's they're fit to eat, though."
Still beaming shy benevolence, he brought from behind him a basket of beautiful rosy apples, every one of which had evidently been polished with care—and the sleeve of his coat.
"Oh, what perfect beauties!" cried the girls. "Oh, thank you, Jacob!"
"What kind are they?" asked Peggy. "They are good!" Peggy never lost a moment in sampling an apple, and her teeth now met in the firm, crisp flesh with every sign of approval.