Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. I’m starving. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. Mon cher major, Melusine began. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. Besides, it was under false pretences.
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