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off that branch?" "Yes, sir," I cried hastily. "I'm very sorry, sir. I did not know that--" "It was so heavy, Grant. Leverage, my boy. A strong man can hardly hold a ladder if he gets it off the balance." "Will it cost much to--" "It was an old ladder, Grant, and I'm not sorry it is broken; for there was a bad crack there, I see, covered over by the paint. We might have had a nasty accident. It will do now for the low trees. Look here." He led me into the shed where the ladders hung, and showed me the broken ladder, neatly sawn off at the top, and thinned down a little, and trimmed off with a spokeshave, while a pot of lead-coloured paint and a brush stood by with which the old gentleman had been going over the freshly-cut wood. "My job," he said quietly. "Dry by to-morrow. You were quite right to tell me." Then there was a pause. "How many apples does that make you've had to-day?" he said, suddenly. "Apples, sir? Oh! that was the first." "Humph!" he ejaculated, looking at me sharply. "And so you've been having a set-to with Shock, eh?" "Yes, sir," I said in an aggrieved tone; "he--" "Don't tell tales out of school, Grant," he said. "You've had your fight, and have come off better than I expected. Don't let's have any more of it, if you can help it. There, have a wash; make haste. Dinner's waiting." The relief I felt was something tremendous, and though five minutes or so before I had not wanted any dinner, I had no sooner had a good wash in the tin bowl with the clean cold water from the pump, and a good rub with the round towel behind the kitchen door, than I felt outrageously hungry; and it was quite a happy, flushed face, with a strapped-up wound on the forehead and a rather swollen and cut lip, that looked out at me from the little square shaving glass on the wall. That morning I had been despondently thinking that I was making no end of enemies in my new home. That afternoon I began to find that things were not so very bad after all. Shock was sulky, and seemed to delight in showing me the roots of his hair in the nape of his neck, always turning his back; but he did not throw any more apples and he played no more pranks, but went on steadily picking. I did the same, making no further advances to him, though, as I recalled how I hammered his body and head, and how he must have been pricked by falling into the gooseberry bush, I felt sorry, and if he had offered to
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