"I'm watching that young boy," said Mr. Jerrold. "He has never left his swing. What do you suppose he is thinking?"
The procession had disappeared, but the boy hung motionless as a snake on the ropes of the swing which barely stirred beneath him.
"Mischief, I'll be bound," said the Vicar.
They strolled through the apple-orchard, examining the quality of the fruit. Grace Jerrold paused before a mound of Tolman Sweets. "Oh, may I have a few of these to take home? There is nothing I like so well, and we haven't one."
"I shall send a basket to you," said Vale. He selected one of the finest and handed it to her. As she bit into it their eyes met; they smiled. Suddenly they seemed to be alone in the orchard. "With that golden apple at your lips, and the golden light on your hair, you are exactly like Eve," whispered Derek.
She laughed and he could see the white bit of apple in her mouth.
"This Spy is delicious," said her father, crunching it like a schoolboy.
"I am hungry," said Mr. Ramsey, "but it seems to be tea I want."
"Look here," said Derek, "you must all stay and have tea with me. I'll go and tell Mrs. Machin." He felt a little nervous as he hurried towards the house. He had not entertained guests at Grimstone before and he was afraid Mrs. Machin's way of doing things might seem a little rough.
Mrs. Machin did not take the announcement amiss. Excitement was in the air; half the day was wasted; one
