' ober in my min', an' dar's only one way. I mought sell apples.
Apples is mighty skarse dis fall, an' I kin git two dollars a bar'l for
'em in town. Now, if I was ter sell three bar'ls of apples I'd hab dat
dar six dollars, sartin shuh. Don' you see dat, Brudder 'Bijah?"

"Dat's all clar 'nuf," said the minister, "but whar you gwine ter git
three bar'ls o' apples? You don' mean ter tell me dat you's got 'nuf
apple-trees in your little gyardin fur ter shake down three bar'ls o'
apples."

"Now look a-heah, Brudder 'Bijah," said Grandison, his eyes sparkling
with righteous indignation, "dat's too much 'to 'spec' ob a man who's
got ter work all day to s'port his wife an' chillun. I digs, an' I
plows, an' I plants, an' I hoes. But all dem things ain't 'nuf ter make
apple-trees grow in my gyardin like as dey was corn-field peas."

"Dat's so," said 'Bijah, reflectively. "Dat's too much to spec' ob any
man. But how's you gwine ter sell de apples if you ain't got 'em?"

"I's got ter git em," said Grandison. "Dar's apples 'nuf growin' roun'
an' not so fur away dat I can't tote 'em ter my house in a bahsket. It's
pow'ful hard on a man wot's worked all day ter have ter tote apples
ahfter night, but dar ain' no other way ob gittin' dat dar money."

"I spec' de orchard whar you's thinkin' o' gwine is Mahs'r Morrises,"
said the minister.

"You don' 'spose Ise gwine ter any ob dose low down orchards on de udder
side de creek, does ye? Mahs'r Morris has got the bes' apples in dis
county. Dat's de kin' wot fetch two dollars a bar'l."

"Brudder Gran'son," said 'Bijah, solemnly, "is you min' runnin on takin'
Mahs'r Morrises apples inter town an' sellin' em?"

"Well, he gits de money, don't he?" answered the other, "and if I don't
sell his apples 'taint no use sellin' none. Dem udder little nubbins
roun' heah won't fetch no two dollars a bar'l."

"Dem ain't justifyin' deeds wot's runnin' in your mind," said 'Bijah.
"Dey ain't justifyin'."

"Ob course," said Grandison, "dey wouldn't be justifyin' if I had de six
dollars. But I ain't got 'em, an' Ise promised to pay 'em. Now, is I ter
stick to de truf, or isn't I?"

"Truf is mighty," said the preacher, "an' ought not to be hendered from
prevailin'."

"Dat's so! dat's so!" exclaimed Grandison. "You can't go agin de
Scripters. Truf _is_ mighty, an' 'tain't fur pore human critters like us
to try to upsot her. Wot we're got ter do is ter stick to her through
thick an' thin."

"Ob