UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
Then it came bobbing up in the boiling water on the 
other side of the tub in a very hilarious manner, and 
slowly took its place at the rear end of the line, while 
the apple next in the ranks approached the jet in the 
same coy, doubtful manner, and made the instan- 
taneous plunge. Then the next and the next, till an 
endless procession of apparently demure, but fun- 
loving apples was established that kept up the circus 
day and night. 
I was wont to take my callers out to the tub, with- 
out any explanation, to let them see my apple per- 
formers. Invariably every one of them, after they 
had gazed a moment, broke out into a hearty laugh. 
“What are you laughing at?” I would inquire. 
“Why, it is so funny; see how those apples behave, 
like little people.” 
If I looked at them every hour in the day I was 
bound to laugh. My little granddaughter, seven 
years old, “a moody child, but wildly wise,” spent 
hours watching the antics of those apples. She 
would replace them with others to see if they would 
all behave in the same way, and then would take 
them all out and lay them in the sun as if to rest and 
warm them. After some days the apples began to 
have a bruised and overworked look, and one felt 
instinctively like taking them out. On the whole it 
was one of the most human performances I ever saw 
inanimate objects engage in, and confirmed Berg- 
son’s philosophy of laughter completely. 
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