never was such a keeping apple anywhere as one of
his trees—I believe there is two of them.
My mother says the orchard was always famous in her
younger days. But I was really quite shocked
the other day— for Mr. Knightley called
one morning, and Jane was eating these apples, and
we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed
them, and he asked whether we were not got to the
end of our stock. `I am sure you must be,’ said
he, `and I will send you another supply; for I have
a great many more than I can ever use. William
Larkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this
year. I will send you some more, before they
get good for nothing.’ So I begged he would
not—for really as to ours being gone, I
could not absolutely say that we had a great many
left—it was but half a dozen indeed; but
they should be all kept for Jane; and I could not
at all bear that he should be sending us more, so liberal
as he had been already; and Jane said the same.
And when he was gone, she almost quarrelled with
me—No, I should not say quarrelled, for
we never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite
distressed that I had owned the apples were so nearly
gone; she wished I had made him believe we had a great
many left. Oh, said I, my dear, I did say as
much as I could. However, the very same evening
William Larkins came over with a large basket of apples,
the same sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I
was very much obliged, and went down and spoke to
William Larkins and said every thing, as you may suppose.
William Larkins is such an old acquaintance!
I am always glad to see him. But, however, I
found afterwards from Patty, that William said it
was all the apples of that sort his master
had; he had brought them all—and now his
master had not one left to bake or boil. William
did not seem to mind it himself, he was so pleased
to think his master had sold so many; for William,
you know, thinks more of his master’s profit
than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite
displeased at their being all sent away. She
could not bear that her master should not be able
to have another apple-tart this spring. He told
Patty this, but bid her not mind it, and be sure not
to say any thing to us about it, for Mrs. Hodges would
be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks were
sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder.
And so Patty told me, and I was excessively shocked
indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley know any
thing about it for the world! He would be so
very. . . . I wanted to keep it from Jane’s
knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it before
I was aware.”
Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to, pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.
“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase— rather darker and narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss Smith, the step at the turning.”