open^fand his wits about him, he noted the leaf. He 

 adjusted his steel-rimmed specs and picked it up. 



"What is here?" he said. "An apple among the cherry 

 sprouts." 



Now (to fall into the vernacular, which we hate to do), 

 if thrift was a mole-hill, farmer Grimes would be a moun- 

 tain. So he took the corn-cob out of his mouth, and 

 leaning on his hook, looked again. 



So it happened that the second little tree was spared. 



But cJas, how unfavorable was its environment! 

 Years passed, but the little tree had a mighty hard time 

 of it. It grew where the snow drifted, and many of its 

 branches were broken off. It was handy as a source of 

 switches for everyone who passed to let down the bars 

 for the cattle; and many a promising shoot was cut off 

 and trimmed up only to be broken about the hind legs 

 of any animal that lingered on the way home. The 

 cows themselves, as if in resentment for the part it 

 played in their chastisement, took a passing "hook" 

 at it whenever they got a chance. 



More years passed. The little tree had begun to bear 

 apples. The long-legged son of farmer Grimes had gone 

 to the city to get a job in an of35ce where he could wear 

 a pink shirt and consider himself "some cheese". The 

 county had prospered, moderately, until it now boasted 

 on every barn on the way to town, its forthcoming 

 first Big County Fair! 



And among the local farmers, competition was es- 

 pecially keen for one entry on the premium list — "the 

 best plate of apples, any variety." 



Well, to trim our little story short, the blue card 



went to "Grimes Foundling" For all this was in 



the days before everyone knew the importance of 

 pruning; and Chance had done for farmer Grimes what 

 he didn't know — then — how to do for himself. 



In the succeeding years many "whips" were cut from 

 that wayside tree — but not to beat cows with. They 

 went into other orchards for grafting, and made that 

 section famous. And they brought the thrifty old farmer 

 many an iron man, in those long-ago days when an I. M. 

 could go to the grocery store and march home with 



