“So do I you, ever so much. What is that you are doing with that long wooden needle and big ball of cord, David Lindsay?”
“I am mending nets.”
“Oh, how curious it is. Will you show me how to do it, David Lindsay? Is it hard to do?”
“No, it is easy. I will be glad to show you,” said the boy, who then instructed her in the simple stitch by which the nets were made.
“What fun!” exclaimed the child, as her slender little fingers plied the wooden needle in and out among the meshes. “Who taught you to do this, David Lindsay?”
“I——” The boy hesitated and looked puzzled, and then said: “I don’t know. I netted nets ever since I could remember, and before, too, I reckon, but not so large nets as these. I netted minnow nets first, I remember that. I s’pose father must ha’ taught me.”
“Have you got a father and mother, David Lindsay?”
“Yes, in Heaven,” replied the lad, lifting his broken hat and bending his head.
“So have I—in Heaven. Have you got any brothers and sisters, David Lindsay?”
“No, not one.”