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THAT apple tree of Aunt Grenertsen’s was too tantalizing! Big, beautiful apples hung there day after day, and nobody ever seemed to think of such a thing as taking one off. Aunt Grenertsen might, for instance, so easily say to old Katrina, her housemaid: “Shake down an apple or two for Johnny Blossom”; but no indeed! Far from it. Never in the world had she suggested anything of the kind, although he had been in there every single day since the apples had begun to turn. “My, oh, my! She is so heavy! You would hardly believe how heavy she is; but I almost know that I could lift her and hold her at arm’s length with my arm out like this, perfectly straight!” “I should say not,” returned Jerry. “The last twelve hours ought to last you for the rest of your life!”.
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Frantic Fury's dying groan! It was weeks before there came a break in the monotony of his work. He had forced himself to be cheerful about his stupid job and not to show by the least sign that he was not entirely content with the work he had been set to do. Mr. Taylor, who since the advent of the Chief, had taken charge of the office work, spoke to Mr. Whitney. “That boy, Hazard, is a good lad,” he said. “Although the plucky beggar won’t own up, I think he is eating his heart out at the draughting board. I can get along without him, so give him a chance outside if you can.” It was a ticklish moment. They shot out of the white spray and were headed for the rocky wall. “Quick, Jerry!” yelled Bob. “Pull her ’round.” Since becoming an aide to the Chief, Bob had not entirely given up his unofficial inspection trips. The dam and all the operations that were the building of it still fascinated him and his spare time was given to roaming over the job. So good an observer was he, that time after time he surprised Mr. Whitney with his knowledge of some obscure detail of the work..
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