Then for a moment, as I grasped it, I felt as if I was going to lose my
footing, and hang off the ladder. If I did, the bough was so thin that
I knew it would break, and it was only by exerting all my strength that
I held on.
At last, lowering hand below hand, I got to be a little more upright.
My feet were firmer on the ladder, and I was able to take a step down.
Another few moments and, with a sigh of relief at my escape from a heavy
fall--for it really was an escape--I thrust the beautiful apple in my
breast and descended to my basket, gave a final glance round to see if
there was any more fruit within reach, found there was not, and so I
went to the foot of the ladder, emptied my basket, took out the apple
from my breast, and found that it was as beautiful as it had seemed up
there.
"I must have you," I thought, and, turning the rosy side towards me, I
took a tremendous bite out of it, a rich sweet juicy bite, and then
stood staring stupidly, for Old Brownsmith was standing there with his
cats, looking at me in a quiet serious way.