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. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. "Oh, yes!—for always!" He took her hands and pressed them upon his thrumming heart; and in this attitude they remained for some time. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness.
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