CHAPTER SIX 



THE ORCHARD 



AN old orchard, in fair condition, covered 

 half of the twelve acres we originally rented 

 with the Wilbur homestead. Our first year 

 there happened to be a phenomenally good 

 fruit season. When the trees were in blos- 

 som, we reveled in their pink and white 

 beauty without any mercenary thoughts; but 

 when the aesthetic feast commenced to fade, 

 the practical asserted itself, and, in defiance 

 of the adage about not counting your chick- 

 ens before they are hatched, we speculated 

 on the probability of financial results, which 

 mounted higher as the fruit approached ma- 

 turity, though there had been lots of quakey 

 days, when little green apples strewed the 

 ground, and it seemed as if Mother Nature 

 was doing a needless amount of thinning. 



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