“I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. That Mr.
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