He could not kiss Ruth. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. 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. "But it won't do. “That’s all,” she said “I’m afraid I’m a little confused about these things.
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