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. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. My heart cannot take it. Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. Something about the girl had suggested an idea.
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