I was silent, and yet, if I said nothing, I was afraid of calling attention to myself and inciting Kromer’s anger against me.
My two comrades had from the beginning turned their backs on me, and had sided with him;
I was a stranger among them, and I felt my clothes and manner to be a provocation.
It was impossible that Frank should like me, a Latin schoolboy and the son of a gentleman,
and the other two, I felt, as soon as it came to the point, would disown me and leave me in the lurch.
At last, through mere fright, I also began to relate a story.
I invented a long narration of theft, of which I made myself the hero.
In a garden by the mill on the corner, I recounted, I had one night with the help of a friend stolen a whole sack of apples,
and those none of the ordinary sorts, but russets and golden pippins, the very best.
In the danger of the moment I had recourse to the telling of this story, which I invented easily and recounted readily.
In order not to have to finish off immediately, and so perhaps be led from bad to worse, I gave full scope to my inventive powers.
One of us, I continued, always had to stand sentinel, while the other was throwing down apples from the tree,
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