t of the boy I could sell it to. John Maxwell is his
name.

He goes to our Sunday-school and is fifteen, and croaks like a
bull-frog. Ugly? Pug-dog ugly; but he's awful nice, and for a boy has
real much sense.

His father owns the shoe-factory, and has plenty of money. I know, for
he told me he had five cents every day to get something for lunch, and
fifty cents a week to do anything he wants with. His mother gives it to
him.

Well, the next Sunday he came over to talk, like he always does after
Sunday-school is out, and I said, real quick, Mary giving signs of
silliness:

"I'm in business. Did you know it?"

"No," he said. "What kind? Want a partner?"

"I don't. I want customers. I'm in the Apple business. I have an apple
every day. It's for sale. Want to buy it?"

"What's the price?" Then he laughed. "I'm from New Jersey. What's it
worth?"

"It's worth a cent. As you're from New Jersey, I charge you two. Take
it?"

"I do." And he started to hand the money out.

But I told him I didn't want pay in advance. And then we talked over how
the apple could be put where he could get it, and the money where I
could. We decided on a certain hole in the Asylum fence John knew
about, and every evening that week I put my apple there and found his
two pennies. On Saturday night I had fourteen cents. Wasn't that grand?
Fourteen cents!

But the next Sunday there came near being trouble. Roper Gordon--he's
John Maxwell's cousin--had heard about the apple selling. He told me I
wasn't charging enough, and that he'd pay three cents for it.

"I'll be dogged if you will," said John. "I'm cornering that apple, and
I'll meet you. I'll give four."

"All right," I said. "I'm in business to make money. I'm not charging
for worth, but for want. The one who wants it most will pay most. It can
go at four."

"No, it can't!" said Roper. His father is rich, too. He's the
Vice-President of the Factory, and Roper puts on lots of airs. He thinks
money can do anything.

"I'll give five. Apples in small lots come high, and selected ones
higher. John is a close buyer, and isn't toting square."

"That's a lie!" said John, and he lit out with his right arm and gave
Roper such a blow that my heart popped right out on my tongue and sat
there. Scared? I was weak as a dead cat.

But I grabbed John and pulled him behind me before Roper could hit back,
and then in some way they got outside, and I heard afterward John beat
Roper to a jelly.