“Dear me!” he said. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. 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 father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps.
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