TALKING APPLE BLOSSOMS 109 



ing, I know, but I am so afraid about the 

 cider." 



"Bless my heart!" said Mr. Barrett, pushing 

 back his chair and lifting Ruth tenderly into 

 his strong arms. "See here, child, there isn't 

 anything to cry about. That dream was all 

 wrong. Our apples Freddie's and yours and 

 mother's and mine arc never going to be made 

 into cider, and I hope our little girl will be a 

 temperance worker some day and help to drive 

 every cider mill out of this country. I did say to 

 your uncle yesterday that it was a pit}' to have 

 so many apples go to waste every summer, and 

 that other people were making money out of 

 the cider business. But since then, your mother 

 and I have talked it over, and we have decided 

 to send a lot of apples to Boston this year for 

 the little folks at the Frances E. Willard Set- 

 tlement." 



"Smiling again, Ruth? I thought so. We'll 

 take a walk out to the orchard after supper 

 and tell the blossoms all about it before they 

 go to sleep." 



