Wood,—"he'll never mend. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. ” “So you think. It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full.
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