It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual.
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