"Yes, sir,—if he is a shoemaker" (to make sure of identity).
"Yes, well, he ain't to home."
"Oh."
"He's gone to Sonose."
"When will he be back, if you please?"
"Wall, I can't say for sartin. Next week or week after,—leastwise 'fore the fair. Got a job?"
"Yes, sir, but I can't very well wait so long. Do you know of any shoemakers anywhere about?"
"Wall, ma'am, I do' know as I do. Folks is mostly farmers here. There's Fuller, just moved, though. Come up from Exton yesterday. P'r'aps he'll give you a lift. That's his house right down there. 'Taint more 'n half a mile."
"Yes, sir, I see it. Thank you."
Individual descends from her precarious elevation, and marches to the attack of Fuller. A fresh-faced, good-natured-looking man is just coming out at the gate. His pleasant countenance captivates her at once, and, with a silent but intense hope that he may be the shoemaker, she asks if "Mr. Fuller lives here."