She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. "Choose, Jack. Just beyond there would be her heart's desire. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. 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. She tried not to blush. Not a breath was drawn. His name was Peter.
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