Chapter 6

           Thewindsweptdowntherows,nextmorning,swayingthebranchesofthetrees,andthewindfallsdroppedonthegroundwithsoftthuds.Frostwasinthewind,andbetweentheguststhecuriousstillnessofautumn.Thepickersscurriedattheirwork,coatsbuttonedcloseovertheirchests.Whenthetruckswentbybetweentherows,awallofdustrolledoutandwentsailingdownthewind.

           Thecheckerattheloadingstationworeasheepskincoat,andwhenhewasnottallying,thrusthandsandbookandpencilintohisbreastpocketandmovedhisfeetrestlessly.

           Jimcarriedhisbuckettothestation."Coldenoughforyou?"

           "Notascoldasitwillbeifthiswinddoesn’tchange.Freezetheballsoffabrassmonkey,"thecheckersaid.

           Asullenlookingboycameupanddumpedhisbucket.Hisdarkbrowsgrewlowtohiseyesandhisdark,stiffhairgrewlowonhisforehead.Hiseyeswereredandhot.Hedumpedhisbucketfulofapplesintoabox.

           "Don’tbruisethoseapples,"thecheckersaid."Rotsetsinonabruise."

           "Oh,yeah?"

           "Yeah,that’swhatIsaid."Thecheckermadeaslashingmarkwithhispencil."Thatbucket’sout.Tryagain."

           Thesmoulderingeyesregardedhimwithhostility."Yousuregotitcomin’.An’you’regoin’togetit."

           Thecheckerreddenedwithanger."Ifyou’regoingtogetsmart,you’dbetterpadalongoutandhittheroad."