‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. 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. It’s just like your Splendid Pride to do it. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves.
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