childhood came back,—he would make such a fine illustration in the Picture Bible for that story of the Fall of Jericho. So she waved to Ben, and forthwith entered into that game called, in different ages, banter, persiflage, repartee—"jollying" in hers—at which, for all her straightforwardness, she was quite as expert as Master Phil.
The banished first mate sauntered by; looked chagrined, bashful, wistful, and envious, all at once; then gazed up at the apple-tree. The reddening Baldwins offered a suggestion which, seated upon an upturned skiff, a little way up the street, he promptly began to put into execution.
First he halved the apple very carefully, then removed the core. On the leaf of a pocket log-book he wrote something, tore out the page, placed it in the cavity, and fitted the two halves together. Picking up a shingle, he made two long skewers, thrusting them through the apple so that the halves would not part; and finished the job by nipping off the protruding ends of the skewers.
A minute later a perfectly harmless apple fell into Sally's lap. The Captain still slept and Master Phil did not notice the premature fall, but Sally, womanlike, connected a man with that apple. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ben, who nodded and disappeared under the green tunnel of the elms.
Now only a faint radiance powdered them with gold.
Sally rose.
"Excuse me, Phil, I must get supper."
She didn't ask him to stay, thus doing violence to Salthaven hospitality, but she had to examine that apple.
