"O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. Twenty guineas, mind. ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy. Never had her father explained. 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. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine.
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