Every boy in Little River knew where those apples grew. The youngest urchin in the place was shown the tree that bore them, on his first trudge to the little red schoolhouse on the brow of the hill. The river ran through this town, making two distinct villages. The road was straight from the East Side, along by the river, over the bridge, to the big open square on the West Side, where were the postoffice and the First Church.
The schoolhouse itself was a bone of contention when it was built, — and long before also, — and the place where it stood has something to do with the apples in this story. When the townsfolks voted to have a schoolhouse, they agreed, in both villages, to locate it in the exact centre. When the measurements came to be taken, it was found that, if this plan were carried out, the building would stand plump in the middle of the river. So they had another town-meeting; and the farmers from the West Side called those on the East Side mean, and those on the East Side said at least they were not greedy, and did n't want the whole earth, as did their opponents.
After much wrangling and backbiting the West Side carried the day, though nobody ever knew just when or how; and so the schoolhouse was built nearer that part of the town. It faced the East Side however. This may have been a bit of conciliation on the part of the successful party, for as you came along, up the hill, its red front looked down upon you in a sort of good-natured yet half-ashamed way, as if apologizing for being in existence at all.
