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. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. " "Wear that to-night, then. But you belong to me—and I want you. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him.
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