The Old Willow Tree and Other Stories

Every morning, the keeper's dog came jogging round the fence to take a mouthful of fresh air and a little exercise. He had lost all his teeth and could see only with one eye. He always stopped for a bit when he came to the crab-apple-tree and rubbed himself against her: Heaven forbid! the dog. All honour to the real apple-trees; they are right enough in their way; but you are so beautifully gnarled.