The Story of an Apple Pie
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Brother and Sister
Charles and his sister Emily, lived with their parents in a pretty white cottage which stood in a little garden at the end of the village. Charles was a bright-looking boy with hazel eyes and brown curly hair; Emily was fair and blue-eyed. She was a few years younger than Charles, and had not started school yet. For the most part they were obedient and happy children, and you might have often seen the dimple which came in Emily's cheek whenever she smiled.
Emily had a dear little bedroom of her own next to Charles'. In it there was a little white bed, a chest of drawers, a table and a chair, a clothes cupboard and a small trunk on which Charles used to sit when he paid her a call. In the window hung a pretty wire cage in which was her pet canary.
One summer morning as Emily lay in bed listening to the canary sing, she heard a tap at the door. It was Charles. Then she heard his voice calling her to get up and come out for a romp in the meadow before breakfast.
Emily was up in a moment. She dressed hastily and still more hastily she hurried through her prayers, not once pausing to think of that blessed God in whose Presence she was kneeling. Nor did she ask Him from her heart for that help without which no little boy or girl can be kept from temptation for a day, nor even for an hour.
It was a lovely morning, the sun shone brightly, and soon Charles and Emily were running through the fields in pursuit of a butterfly with golden wings. They too seemed to fly through the air, their feet scarcely brushing the dewdrops from the daisies in the grass. At last the butterfly settled for a moment on a bluebell and Emily darted quickly down, exclaiming joyfully, "I have caught it! I have caught it!" But the butterfly slipped through her fingers and sailed off once more into the blue, rejoicing again in its liberty.
It was now time for Charles and Emily to return, so the butterfly was left to flutter on its way while they sauntered homewards.
As they neared the house Tom, the baker's boy, came along with a most magnificent pie in his hands. How nice it looked and how good it smelled!
“What kind of a pie is that, Tom, and where are you going with it?" asked Charles.
“It's an apple pie," replied Tom, "and it's going to your house.”
“Oh," said Emily, "it's the apple pie Mommie ordered for supper tonight. You know Uncle George and Aunt Winnie were to come Wednesday evening, and this is Wednesday.”
“Yes," said Charles, looking wistfully at the apple pie; "it is Wednesday, but we won't get to stay up and have supper with them.”
Tom was meanwhile moving off with the apple pie.
“Wait, Tom," said Charles; "wait a minute, and let me look at it again.”
However, Tom only quickened his steps.
The children followed him into the garden, but before they could get up close to him he was already inside the house.
Charles and Emily heard a key turn in a door, and Susan the maid, entering the pantry, placed the apple pie on a table next to the window. She then went out again, locking the door behind her, without having noticed the children just outside.
“She is a dear blind old thing," said Charles. "She never saw us, though we were right in front of her the whole time. Now, Emily! here's our chance! We shall at least have another peep." He placed a couple of bricks on the ground, and standing upon them, gently lifted the window and pulled the apple pie toward him.
“Well, Emily," he said, "I do think it is the most delightful pie I ever saw. How nice it smells! And it is so high and puffy. I am sure it is crammed full of apples-really it is too full. I do not think a few of the apples would ever be missed. And here is a spoon lying beside it, just as if it had been put there especially for us. I could raise up the crust a little at the edge, with my penknife, and take out a spoonful. Eh, Emily! what do you think?”
“Think?" responded Emily, "I think they would be very sweet and nice. Mommie told the baker to put in a whole cupful of sugar.”
“I wasn't thinking of the sugar," said Charles; and he closed his knife again. There was a pause—the children stood looking at each other.
“There is no one in the garden," whispered Emily, looking timidly around her.
“No, not a soul," answered her brother; and hastily opening his knife again, he raised the crust, slipped in the spoon and handed Emily a heaping spoonful of the delicious baked apples.
“Oh, yummy!" exclaimed Emily. "How good it is; really, it's the best pie I ever tasted!”
Charles seemed to think so, too. Spoonful after spoonful did he share with his sister, nor did they stop till there was none left. Then carefully putting down the crust again, he shut the window, removed the bricks, and darted into the house, where he vainly tried to finish his breakfast as usual. But finding that impossible, he hurried off to school.
“Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant." Proverbs 9:17.
Chapter 2: An Unhappy Day
Emily's mother found her unusually attentive and obedient that morning. But if she could have looked inside her little daughter's heart, she would have seen that Emily was trying to drown her thoughts, for she was feeling very uncomfortable in her conscience.
If she had been really sorry for what she had done, she would have confessed all to her mother at once. She would also have got down on her knees and asked God's forgiveness and the help of His Holy Spirit to guard her against future temptation. But though at times during the day she felt very unhappy, Emily did not really repent of her sin.
When Emily's morning duties were over, her mother praised her for her attention, and told her how happy it made her to see her so diligent.
Emily blushed scarlet; it was the blush of shame. Her mother's praises, which usually were so delightful to her, now only increased her distress.
“Now you can go and play in the garden," her mother continued. "You have done quite enough for today. And before supper go and put on your white dress and make yourself as neat as possible. You know we expect Uncle George and Aunt Winnie this evening; and I think," she added, "I think my little girl well deserves to wear her merit sash today. Your aunt will be delighted to see you with that on." Her merit sash was a white satin ribbon worn across the right shoulder with the words, "For a good girl," worked on it in pink silk.
Emily hurried off, not to enjoy herself in the garden, but to sit quite still and sorrowful on the swing. Every now and then she glanced at the pantry window, with strong feelings of remorse, and vainly wished she could restore the apples to the apple pie, and herself to the happiness of the day before.
The breeze blew softly upon her, the birds were singing cheerily in the trees, and the fragrant blossoms hung from the boughs. But to Emily there was no freshness in the breeze, no beauty in the blossoms, no gladness in the song of the birds. At such times she had been accustomed to lift her heart to that gracious God who had made everything so beautiful. But how could she look up to Him against whom she had sinned, and whose forgiveness she had not asked?
At the sound of the village clock striking the hour, Emily hastily rose and ran into the house to get dressed for supper. As she entered her room, her canary fluttered his wings joyfully, and from his outstretched little throat poured forth one of the sweetest songs.
“I wish he would be quiet, and let me alone," said Emily. "What a noise he is making!”
“Let you alone?" exclaimed Susan, who had just entered the room. "Why, what harm is the bird doing you? Shame on you, Emily; you seem unhappy about something today.”
“Don't talk to me like that," answered Emily. "Mommie says I'm to wear my white dress and get ready for supper.”
Susan helped Emily dress in spite of the rude way in which the little girl spoke. The white dress was put on, and her hair nicely brushed.
“What sash did your mother say you were to wear?" asked Susan.
Emily pulled out the drawer where her sashes were kept. There lay, in a little box nicely lined with pink paper, her merit sash. She lifted it out of the box and looked at it steadily for a moment.
“No, I dare not, I cannot wear it," she whispered to herself. "For a good little girl! Oh, I am not that!" And hastily replacing it in the box, she lifted out her blue sash, and proceeded to put it on without uttering a word.
Susan helped her tie on the sash, and Emily went down to the living room. As she entered, her mother was seated at the table writing a letter, and did not look up. Glad of this, Emily crept softly into a recess in the window and took up a book. Presently she heard the rustling of paper, as if her mother was folding a letter.
“Come out of your hole, you quiet little mouse," said Mother. "You are a good little girl not to disturb me.”
Poor guilty Emily! Trembling violently, and with her face and neck covered with blushes, she stood before her mother, who glanced for a moment, first at Emily's face and then at her blue sash. She could see something was wrong, but asked no questions, for she trusted that her little girl would tell her all in the evening when she went into her room for the usual quiet bedtime talk.
Emily did not see Charles till they met after school, so she had no opportunity to talk with him, but she noticed that he looked unusually grave and unhappy. They went for a walk with their father and mother, and then they seated themselves at the open window to watch for the arrival of their Uncle George and Aunt Winnie. In this interesting occupation they forgot their sorrows for a while.
The sun had just gone down, leaving the sky richly streaked with gold and purple, and soon they were absorbed in imagining castles in the air and tracing mountains in the fleecy clouds.
“Listen!" said Emily. "Charles, I hear a car; I am sure I do. Listen!”
“I can hear it too," said Charles; "but that is not the sound of a car; it is a cart, I am sure." As he spoke the baker and his cart appeared in view, but soon disappeared out of sight.
“How smart of you to guess that!" said Emily. "But what is that sound now? is it the wind? No, it is a car. They are coming, Charles; oh, do say it is their car!”
“No," said her brother. "But hush!" and he held down his ear to listen, "I am almost sure it is a motor of some kind." The next moment the village druggist drove past, exclaiming, "Hello, Charles. Good evening, Emily." And off and out of sight he was in a moment.
“But, hooray! where have both our ears been now?" exclaimed Charles, as another car sped rapidly through the village, and stopped at the garden gate. It was Uncle George and Aunt Winnie.
“How well those dear children look, sister," said their Aunt Winnie, as she entered, holding a hand of each. "My little Emily is blooming like a rose.”
“It is her joy at your coming that has given her that color," said Mrs. Lloyd, "for Emily has been looking very pale all day.”
“Oh no, sister, you must not say that, for that means sending her to bed I fear. Now you must not refuse my request, and that is that both the children should stay up and have supper with us tonight.”
“But we are not to be quite alone," said Mrs. Lloyd. "I asked some neighbors, the Drummonds, to come and meet you. We shall not have room for everyone at the table.”
“Oh! I shall take care of that," Aunt Winnie insisted; "so now you have consented.”
Charles and Emily clapped their hands.
“Thank you, Aunt Winnie! Thank you!" they both exclaimed joyfully.
Then suddenly they stopped. They looked at each other and both were silent.
Chapter 3: Confession
When supper time came, Charles and Emily were somewhat relieved to find that there was not room for them at the table. They were seated in the easy chairs which stood one on each side of the fireplace. Emily's feet did not nearly touch the floor; she sat bolt upright, casting many wistful glances towards her brother opposite. Anxiously they watched each dish as it was brought in, and their spirits rose as no apple pie appeared.
“Aren't those dear, patient little folks to get anything?" said Aunt Winnie. "Sister, are you forgetting them entirely.”
“Oh, no!" said Mrs. Lloyd; "I have not forgotten them. Their supper is coming and there is something special coming by-and-by which they shall have their share of. Or, perhaps," continued Mrs. Lloyd, "it would be as well to bring it in now, for I am anxious that they should get to bed. Charles, my boy, run and tell Susan to bring the apple pie.”
Charles obeyed, trembling; and a few minutes later Susan placed the apple pie on the table.
“Now do let me cut it up," said Aunt Winnie, "for I must have the pleasure of helping these dear children." She cut a piece of the crust, and then put in the spoon. After a swift circuit around an empty dish, lo and behold, it came out again as bright and clean as when it went in.
“Why, how is this?" exclaimed Mr. Lloyd. "The apple pie is empty! We must inquire into this immediately. Charles, call Susan again!”
“Tell me, Susan," demanded Mr. Lloyd, when she appeared, "who brought this apple pie here this morning?”
“It was Tom the baker's boy," replied the astonished maid.
“The little rascal," exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, "or little thief, I should say. Well, I will speak to his boss tomorrow, and insist that the boy be soundly whipped. It may save him from a worse fate, for boys who begin by stealing little things, if they are not found out and punished, often grow up into wicked men.”
While his father spoke, Charles' head had sunk down lower and lower on his breast, so as to entirely conceal his face. He trembled so violently that Emily was afraid he would drop from his seat. Suddenly he raised his head and looked up; his countenance had resumed its usual expression and the guilty look was gone.
“How can he forget so soon, and be so bold about it?" thought Emily. She herself could hardly swallow a piece of bread and jelly her mother had given her. She was very glad indeed when the two of them were sent up to bed.
But bed brought her no rest. She had not dared to kneel down as usual to pray, for she felt she could not ask forgiveness from God her Father for a sin which she still wished and intended to hide from her parents. She might have said in the words of another, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." (Psa. 66:18.)
A guilty conscience makes even brave men afraid, and so it was no wonder that little Emily was afraid to be left alone in the dark. She asked Susan not to draw the blinds.
For some time she lay gazing at the moon and trembled when a passing cloud obscured its light even for a moment. Suddenly it became hid from her view, and the room was in utter darkness. Emily could bear it no longer; she sprang from her bed, and softly opened the door of Charles' room. It seemed he had not yet got into bed; his light was on, his Bible lay open, and he was kneeling in prayer. Emily stood for one moment struck with awe; then softly creeping back to her room, she lay listening till she heard Charles getting into bed.
Then she ran back into Charles' room.
“Oh, Charles," she exclaimed, "I am so unhappy! I cannot get to sleep! Whenever I shut my eyes, something always whispers in my ear, 'Thou shalt not steal!' What can it be?”
“It's conscience, Emily.”
“Oh, then, I do wish it had whispered to us in the garden!”
“It did," said Charles. "Do you remember when I closed my penknife? It whispered then; but I would not listen.”
“But," said Emily, "one good thing is, that Mommie will not come to say goodnight now; it is so late. Do you think, Charles, that Daddy or Mommie will ever find it out?”
“Find it out!" exclaimed her brother. "Emily, do you really think I can go to sleep before I have confessed it all? Shall Tom be punished? Shall Tom be called a thief, and I the guilty person? No, Emily, no; I am only waiting till the company leaves. Listen! I hear them in the hall now and Daddy is saying goodnight. It is the outer door that was shut just now; yes, I am sure it was." And Charles jumped out of bed and wrapped the blanket about him.
“Wait for me," said Emily; "oh, do wait a minute, Charles! let me go too and help you tell it all." She threw her dressing-gown about her, and together they went downstairs. At the dining-room door Charles paused.
“What are you doing, Charles?" said Emily; "are you going back?”
“No, Emily, no; I am praying to God. I am asking Him to give me strength." Then he knocked boldly.
“Charles! Emily!" exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd at once; "is it possible! My dear children, why are you here? Are you sick?”
“No, Daddy, no! but Tom must not be punished. Tom is not a thief! but I—but I am," sobbed Charles. "Oh, Daddy! I was like the wicked serpent; I tempted Emily, and ate.”
“No, no, Daddy!" said Emily; "he was not like the serpent; I was just as bad. He did not tempt me; I asked him for spoonful after spoonful; I said the apples were the sweetest I had ever tasted. I was just as bad.”
At this point their kind Aunt Winnie, who had not gone yet, could not keep silent any longer. Tears filled her eyes as she stood looking at the trembling little culprits before her.
“My dear Robert," she said, "do let me intercede for these poor children. They have already been sufficiently punished by their own guilty feelings, and they have atoned for their fault by their confession. Oh, do not punish them further.”
“No, sister," said Mr. Lloyd, "this cannot be. Had they concealed so great a fault, had they allowed Tom, who was innocent, to suffer for their sins, I scarcely know any punishment they would not have deserved. They have, however, by their confession, so far acted as they ought to have done; and I shall let them decide what their punishment shall be! Tell me, Charles, what shall it be?”
“Send us to bed early Saturday evenings for the next six weeks, Daddy," said the boy in a scarcely audible voice. "Send us to bed early; you can't punish us more than that.”
“Well, my dear children, let it be so. No, sister, no!" said Mr. Lloyd, as he saw their aunt still about to intercede for them; "no, my dear sister, not another word on the subject. And now, Charles and Emily, come with me, and let me hear you ask forgiveness from God our Father for having sinned against His love. I shall talk further to you of this matter tomorrow.”
We must not think that Charles' father did not forgive his children because he punished them for their fault. No, he punished them because he loved them and wanted them to learn to resist temptation; but he proved that he forgave them by calling them still his "dear children," and by trusting Charles sufficiently to let him name their punishment. And Charles proved that his repentance was real by choosing the punishment he did, for the pleasant Saturday evenings he and Emily spent with their loved parents were among the greatest treats they had.
Charles and Emily had a Mightier One than their aunt to plead for them when they knelt and confessed their sin to God, for in the First Epistle of John, at the beginning of the second chapter you will find these words: "My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for... the whole world.”
If we have trusted Jesus as our Savior, then He is our Advocate with the Father. He undertakes our cause and pleads for us. He Himself paid the penalty for our sins when He died for us upon the cross. Every one of our sins was remembered there and laid upon Him, the spotless Sin-bearer, and He has washed them all away in His precious blood. Now God can say, "Their sins and iniquities will I remember no more." Hebrews 10:17.
“Jesus, tender Savior,
Hast Thou died for me?
Make me very thankful
In my heart to Thee;
When the sad, sad story
Of Thy grief I read,
Make me very sorry
For my sins indeed.”
God's word says, "He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy." Proverbs 28:13.
But to confess our sins, even when we confess them to God, is not to atone for them. Ah no! that is a thing we could never, never do: "It is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul" (Lev. 17:11), and that precious blood was shed by Jesus, the Lamb of God, on Calvary.
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