“I got enough,” said the stranger. “Green grapes are great for the cramps.”
Stephen did not know this, but he was politely interested; there was one thing he wanted to ask the stranger, and now he said:
“Ain't you afraid of Peter?”
“Afraid of Dutchy?” with infinite scorn. “If he comes around here, him and me will see times! Say, what's your name?”
“Stephen Landray.”
“Mine's Benjamin Wade; but you can call me Ben for short if you want to.”
Stephen looked his gratitude for the privilege.
“Where did you get in?” asked Stephen.
“Over the back fence and up through the orchard. I manage to keep a board off the fence most of the time, but old Dutchy's pretty patient about nailing it up. Them Germans ain't easily discouraged; seems like he is always hoping he can get it to stick.”
Then he showed Stephen the inner economy of his ragged jacket; he had removed the linings of each pocket and the result was a sacklike receptacle which he told Stephen, after calling upon him to admire the ingenuity of the arrangement, would hold by actual measurement, a peck of apples.