Curing the Apple Thief by Emma Penno

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · May 23, 1907

Curing the Apple Thief

By Emma Penno

“I THINK I can cure those boys of that bad habit,” said Grandfather Gooderham to himself, with a very mischievous twinkle in his eyes for one of his sober years.

“To be sure, I think there must be something wrong about a boy’s bringing up when he persists in appropriating his neighbor’s goods, such as cherries, plums, pears, and early apples. He certainly has not yet learned to square his life by the golden rule, however well he may have learned to repeat it. But I think I can cure him. I’ll try a few coals of fire,” and the old gentleman almost laughed aloud.

There was some mysterious work going on in grandfather’s orchard the next day. There was a man hired to dig a hole beside the picket fence—a hole several feet deep, and nearly as big around as a well. What he was digging for the man did not know.

“The old gentleman is getting childish,” he said to himself, and went on with the digging. By six o’clock the hole was deep enough to suit grandfather, and the hired man went home. After he was gone, grandfather leveled down the heap of loose earth a little, spread a few branches over the top of the hole, and strewed some grass over them.

About nine o’clock, when it was getting pretty dark, grandfather went out to the orchard and sat under a tree near the fence, a few yards away from the hole. He had not been waiting long when along came two brave boys in search of early apples.

“Where’s that loose picket?” said one, groping along the fence.

“Here it is,” said the other, and removing it, boldly stepped into the orchard and right into the hole.

“Oh, oh!” he cried aloud, thoroughly frightened; “help me out.” But his comrade had run off at the first sound of trouble.

“Charlie!” called the prisoner, but Charlie did not answer.

Presently grandfather came hurrying up. “Well, well! What have we here? How did you get in there?” he asked.

“Come, let me help you out,” said grandfather, kindly, and he reached down and drew the boy up.

“What were you doing here?” he asked, still holding the boy’s hand.

“I came with another fellow to get some apples,” he said, hardly able to keep back the tears.

“Apples? Why, to be sure; but why didn’t you come and ask me for them? Why, bless you, you may have all you want. Come to the house.” And the boy had to, for grandfather still held his hand.

At the house they got a sack, and then went to the orchard again. They visited all the best trees. The boy climbed up and shook down the fruit, and the old gentleman filled up his sack.

“There, take those home with you, now, and don’t forget to share with ‘Charlie.’”

As the boy staggered off under his heavy load, grandfather rubbed his hands together gleefully, and chuckled to himself, “Those coals will burn all right. I guess that’ll cure them.”—Emma Penno.