"Why didn't he pick up the other apple?" asked Henry.
"A well-dressed man, with big black whiskers, picked that up. 'Give it to me,' said the apple man. 'I will not,' replied the man with whiskers. The apple merchant was as mad as he could be; and then the man with black whiskers put his hand in his pocket and drew out a knife. The blade was six inches long."
"O, dear me!" exclaimed Flora.
"Raising the knife, he at once moved towards the angry apple merchant, and—and—"
"Well, what?" asked several, eagerly.
"And cut a piece out of the apple, and put it in his mouth."
The children all laughed heartily, for they were sure the man with the whiskers was going to stab the apple merchant.
"He then took two cents from his pocket, paid for the apple, and went his way," continued the old man. "Now, there is one thing more I can do. I want to run a race with these boys."
"Pooh! You run a race!" sneered Charley.
"I can beat you."