Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. . “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. A boy can forget his amatory troubles playing baseball; but a girl can't find any particular distraction in doing fancy work. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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