of wood, I fitted these into
my socket-holes, and there was my stool complete. This done, I must
needs call her from her cooking to behold it; and though it was no more
than a square of roughish wood set upon three pegs, she praised and
viewed it as it had been a great elbow chair and cushioned at that!
Hereupon, puffed up with my success, I must immediately begin to think
upon building us a table and chairs, but being summoned to dinner I
obeyed her gladly enough. And she seated on her stool with me on the
ground beside her and our turtle-shell dish before us, we ate with
hearty good-will until, our hunger appeased, we fell to talk:

She: 'Tis marvellous how well I eat.

Myself: 'Tis the open air.

She: And the work, Martin. I have swept and dusted our cottage every
hole and corner.

Myself: And found nothing left by its last tenant?

She: Nothing.

Myself: Had he but thought to leave us a saw our chairs and table
would have been the better.

She: Then you will make them, Martin?

Myself: Aye--with time.

She: O 'tis bravely determined.

And here, for a moment, I felt the light touch of her hand on my
shoulder.

Myself: They will be very unlovely things--very rough--

She: And very wonderful, Martin.

Myself: As to these goats now, 'tis an excellent thought to catch some
alive and rear them.

She: I could make you excellent cheese and butter.

Myself: If I cannot run them down, I must contrive to wound one or two
with arrows.

She: Why then, Martin, why not head your arrows with pebbles in place
of iron points?

Myself: Good again! Or I might make a couple of gins, running nooses
cut from the goat-skin. Howbeit, I'll try!

Herewith I arose and she also; then while she busied herself to scald
out our turtle-shell, I set off to get my goat-skin. And finding it
where I had left it hanging on a rock to dry, I fell a-cursing to
myself for very chagrin; for what with the heat of the rock and the
fierce glare of the sun, here was my goat-skin all shrivelled and hard
as any board. So stood I scowling at the thing, chin in hand, and
mightily cast down, and so she presently found me; and beholding my
disconsolate look falls a-laughing.

"O Martin," says she, "'tis well there are some things you cannot do!"
Saying which, she takes up the skin (albeit it smelt none too sweet)
and away she goes with it into the cave. So I got me back to my
carpentry, and selecting as many boards as