"It's worth a cent. As you're from New Jersey, I charge you two. Take
it?"

"I do." And he started to hand the money out.

But I told him I didn't want pay in advance. And then we talked over how
the apple could be put where he could get it, and the money where I
could. We decided on a certain hole in the Asylum fence John knew
about, and every evening that week I put my apple there and found his
two pennies. On Saturday night I had fourteen cents. Wasn't that grand?
Fourteen cents!

But the next Sunday there came near being trouble. Roper Gordon--he's
John Maxwell's cousin--had heard about the apple selling. He told me I
wasn't charging enough, and that he'd pay three cents for it.

"I'll be dogged if you will," said John. "I'm cornering that apple, and
I'll meet you. I'll give four."

"All right," I said. "I'm in business to make money. I'm not charging
for worth, but for want. The one who wants it most will pay most. It can
go at four."

"No, it can't!" said Roper. His father is rich, too. He's the
Vice-President of the Factory, and Roper puts on lots of airs. He thinks
money can do anything.

"I'll give five. Apples in small lots come high, and selected ones
higher. John is a close buyer, and isn't toting square."