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He gave himself some droll consolations. One of these was a pretty, sloop-rigged sail-boat, trim and swift, on which he lavished the tendernesses he knew he should never bestow upon any living she. He named her Sweetheart; a general term; but he knew that we all knew it meant the mender of his coat. By and by his visits fell off and I met him oftenest on the street.
Guess he never did, quite. He wanted to know what lawyer was to have my case. Wahn't none of his affair, and I callated if you'd wanted him to know just yet, you'd have toad him." Austen laid his hand on the farmer's, as he rose to go. "Zeb," he said, "I never expect to have a more exemplary client." Mr. Mender shot a glance at him.
Most of the original tendencies involved in play are not peculiar to it, but also are the source of work. Manifestation results in making "mud pies and apple pies"; physical activity results in the kicking, squirming, and wriggling of the infant and the monotonous wielding of the hammer of the road mender.
Angeline had on a black silk gown as shiny as the freshly polished stove she was leaving in her kitchen a gown which testified from its voluminous hem to the soft yellow net at the throat that Angeline was as neat a mender and darner as could be found in Suffolk county. A black silk bonnet snuggled close to her head, from under its brim peeping a single pink rose.
"But but how do you live?" He put the question hesitatingly, yet with keen curiosity. "How do I live? You mean how do I work for a living? I am a lace mender, and a bit of a laundress too. I wash fine muslin gowns, and mend and clean valuable old lace. It's pretty work and pleasant enough in its way." "Does it pay you well?" "Oh, quite sufficiently for all my needs. I don't cost much to keep!"
"To-night?" said the mender of roads. "To-night," said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth. "Where?" "Here." He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently at one another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge of bayonets, until the sky began to clear over the village. "Show me!" said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill.
When he had identified these objects in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just intelligible: "How goes it, Jacques?" "All well, Jacques." "Touch then!" They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones. "No dinner?" "Nothing but supper now," said the mender of roads, with a hungry face. "It is the fashion," growled the man. "I meet no dinner anywhere."
And by chance, these unlucky persons, my boots and my cobbler, even the oboe mender, all of them somehow got mixed in my dream. It seems that there was a cobbler once, long ago, who kept a shop quite out of the common run and marvelous in its way. It stood in a shadowy city over whose dark streets the buildings toppled, until spiders spun their webs across from roof to roof.
"I don't see that anything has been done there," said Phillida. "The corner is ever so little paler than the rest, maybe." "That is the new piece. The mender selected a piece of hand-made paper of similar texture to the old, and stained the new piece as nearly to the tint of the old leaf as possible.
"Good!" said the sleeper, rising on his elbow. "Two leagues beyond the summit of the hill?" "About." "About. Good!" The mender of roads went home, with the dust going on before him according to the set of the wind, and was soon at the fountain, squeezing himself in among the lean kine brought there to drink, and appearing even to whisper to them in his whispering to all the village.
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