Sometimes I fear our `` regular '' prayers were slurred over , or mumbled in anything but reverent haste . October was a busy month on the hill farms . The apples had to be picked , and this work fell mainly to us children . We stayed home from school to do it . It was pleasant work and there was a great deal of fun in it ; but it was hard , too , and our arms and backs ached roundly at night . In the mornings it was very delightful ; in the afternoons tolerable ; but in the evenings we lagged , and the laughter and zest of fresher hours were lacking . Some of the apples had to be picked very carefully . But with others it did not matter ; we boys would climb the trees and shake the apples down until the girls shrieked for mercy . The days were crisp and mellow , with warm sunshine and a tang of frost in the air , mingled with the woodsy odours of the withering grasses . The hens and turkeys prowled about , pecking at windfalls , and Pat made mad rushes at them amid the fallen leaves . The world beyond the orchard was in a royal magnificence of colouring , under the vivid blue autumn sky . The big willow by the gate was a splendid golden dome , and the maples that were scattered through the spruce grove waved blood-red banners over the sombre cone-bearers . The Story Girl generally had her head garlanded with their leaves . They became her vastly . Neither Felicity nor Cecily could have worn them . Those two girls were of a domestic type that assorted ill with the wildfire in Nature 's veins . But when the Story Girl wreathed her nut brown tresses with crimson leaves it seemed , as Peter said , that they grew on her -- as if the gold and flame of her spirit had broken out in a coronal , as much a part of her as the pale halo seems a part of the Madonna it encircles . What tales she told us on those far-away autumn days , peopling the russet arcades with folk of an elder world . Many a princess rode by us on her palfrey , many a swaggering gallant ruffled it bravely in velvet and plume adown Uncle Stephen 's Walk , many a stately lady , silken clad , walked in that opulent orchard ! When we had filled our baskets they had to be carried to the granary loft , and the contents stored in bins or spread on the floor to ripen further .
We ate a good many , XXXXX course , feeling that the labourer was worthy of his hire .
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