The orchard was locked, and no gardener to be seen: he had sent them all off to help with the harvest. Sónya ran to fetch the key. But he would not wait for her: climbing up a corner of the wall, he raised the net and jumped down on the other side.

His voice came over the wall⁠—“If you want some, give me the dish.”

“No,” I said; “I want to pick for myself. I shall fetch the key; Sónya won’t find it.”