’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. To disillusion her, forthwith. 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.
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