He raised himself unwillingly, and went off to obey orders; one of the
work-women was sent to fetch some flat sieves; while from one of the
sheds I brought a couple of deep cross-handled baskets to each of which
a wooden hook was attached.
By the time we had walked to where the king-pippin trees stood with
their tall straight branches, Ike was before us with a ladder, with the
lower rounds made of great length, so as to give width to the bottom.
I had noticed this before when I had seen the ladders hanging up in the
long shed, and now asked the reason why they were so made.
"To keep them from tilting over when you are up there," said Old
Brownsmith. "Gently, Ike, don't bruise them. Ah! there they go."
For, as Ike thumped down the bottom of the ladder, and then let the top
lean against the tree, a couple of apples were knocked off, to come
down, one with a thud on the soft soil, the other to strike in the fork
of the tree and bound to my feet.
"Some on 'em's sure to get knocked off," growled Ike. "Who's agoin' to
pick?"
"He is," said Mr Brownsmith shortly.
"Then you don't want me no more?"
"Not at present."
"Then I may go on with my planting?"
"Yes."
"Ho!"
I could not help feeling amused at the way in which this conversation
was carried on, and the heavy clumsy manner adopted by Ike in going
away.
"There you are, Grant," said Old Brownsmith, "plenty of apples. What do
you say--can you go up the ladder safely and pick them?"
"Oh yes, sir!" I cried.
"And you will not fall?"
"Oh! I shall not fall, sir," I cried laughing.
"Very well. Up you go then. Take your basket and hook it on to the
round of the ladder where you are picking, then take each apple
carefully, raise it, and it will come off at a point on the stalk where
it joins the twig. Don't tear them out and break the stalks, or they
become unsaleable."
"I'll mind, sir," I said. "I know the big Marie Louise pears at home
used to come off like that at a joint."
"Good!" he cried smiling, and tapping my shoulder. "When you've picked
an apple of course you'll throw it into the basket?"
"Yes, sir."
"You'd better not," he cried sharply. "Lay it in as tenderly as you
can. If you throw it in, the apple will be bruised--bruised apples are
worth very little in the market, and soon decay."
"I'll mind them, sir," I said, and eagerly mounting the ladder I began
to pick the beautiful little apples that hung about me, Old Brownsmith
watching me the while.