nd hot, smarting with blows
and anger, I wondered what Old Brownsmith would say to me for what I had
done.

He only went along the path, however, with his cats, as he saw that Ike
was there, and the apple-picking went on till he was out of sight.

"Ah! you're only a bit dirty," said Ike to me rather less roughly than
usual. "Come down and I'll give you a brush."

"There you are," he said, after performing the task for me. "Was he up
to his larks with you?"

"Yes," I said; "he has been pelting me, and he pretended to fall; and
when I went to help him he struck me, and I couldn't stand that."

"So you licked him well? That's right, boy. He won't do it again. If
he does, give it him, and teach him better. I don't like fighting till
you're obliged; but when you are obliged--hit hard's my motter, and
that's what you've done by him."

Of course I knew that _that_ was what I had done by him, but I felt very
sorry all the same, for I knew I had hurt Shock a good deal, and I had
hurt myself; and somehow, as Ike went away chuckling and rubbing his big
hands down his sides, it seemed very cruel of him to laugh.

Everything seemed to have gone so wrong, and I was in such trouble, that
neither the sunshine nor the beauty of the apples gave me the least
satisfaction.

I kept on picking, expecting every moment that Shock would begin again,
and I kept a watchful eye upon him; but he threw no more lumps of earth
or apples, and only went on picking as quickly as he could, and I
noticed that he always had his face turned from me.

"I do nothing but offend people," I thought, as I worked away, and I
felt as sure as could be that this boy would contrive pitfalls for me
and play me tricks, making my life quite a burden. In fact, I became
very imaginative, as boys of my age often will, and instead of trying to
take things in the manly English spirit that should be the aim of every
lad, I grew more and more depressed.

Just when I was at my worst, and I was thinking what an unlucky boy I
was, I heard a sound, followed by another. The nearest representation
of the sounds are these--_Quack_--_craunche_.

"Why, he's eating apples," I said to myself, as I went down my ladder,
emptied my basket, and went up again.

Now some who read this will think it a strange thing, but, though I had
been busy all that morning handling beautiful little pippins, long,
rosy, and flat-topped, I had never even thought of tasting one.

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