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Crowley, Mary Catherine

"Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir"


"Sure, child, and how could I see what was inside, and it so carefully
done up?" answered Delia, evasively.
They did not question further, but rushed downstairs to see for
themselves.
In the kitchen waited a foreign-looking man, with swarthy skin, and
thin gold rings in his ears. On the floor beside him was a large,
rough packing-basket.
"_That_ a May-basket!" exclaimed Abby, hardly able to restrain the
tears of disappointment which started to her eyes.
"_Si, signorita_," replied the man.
Her frown disappeared. It was certainly very nice to be addressed by
so high-sounding a title. She wished she could get Delia to call her
_signorita_. But no; she felt sure that Delia never would.
"Pshaw! It's only a joke!" said Larry, after a moment. "Somebody
thinks this is April-fool Day, I guess."
"Have patience for a leetle minute, please," said the man, as he cast
away the packing bit by bit. The children watched him with eager
interest. By and by he took out a little bunch of lilies of the
valley, which he handed to Abby with a low bow. Next he came to
something shrouded in fold after fold of tissue-paper.


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