M. Dawson was an old grouch1, and everyone in town knew it. Kids dared not to go into his yard to pick a yummy apple, because Dawson, they said, woulde after you with his BB gun.
When, one Friday, J and Amy got close enough to his house, Dawson looked up with his usual frown. But when he saw it was Amy, he put on a broad smile and said, “Hello!Miss Amy. I see you’ve got a little friend today. ”
Amy smiled back and told him J was staying overnight and they were going to listen to music and play games. Dawson told them that sounded fun, and offered them each a fresh apple picked off his