Wallace was silent while he was looking at these things. He was thinking of the difference between the two boys. The train of thought which was passing through his mind was somewhat as follows.
Stuyvesant is younger than Phonny, and he was brought up in a city, and yet he seems a great deal more of a man; which is very strange. In the first place he takes a great deal more interest in the hens, which are useful and productive animals, than he does in the squirrel, which is a mere plaything. Then he plans his work carefully, considers how much he can probably accomplish himself, and undertakes no more. He plans, he calculates, he measures, and then proceeds steadily and perseveringly till he finishes.
In the midst of these reflections, Wallace was called away by Phonny, as follows.
“Cousin Wallace, I wish you would finish my cage for me. I am tired of boring all these holes, and besides I can’t bore them straight.”
Wallace looked at the work a moment in uncertainty. He did not like to throw away his own time in finishing an undertaking so clumsily begun, and on the other hand, he did not like very well to refuse to help Phonny out of his difficulties. He finally concluded to undertake the work. So he took the cage down from the bench and put it upon the floor; he borrowed the iron square and the compasses from Stuyvesant; he ruled a line along the top of the box at the right distance from the edge, and marked off places for the holes, half an inch apart, along this line, pricking in, at the places for the holes, deep, with one of the points of the compass. When this had all been done he went on boring the holes.
Stuyvesant was now ready to nail the cross-bars to the side pieces of the ladder. He asked Phonny where he kept his nails. Phonny showed him a box where there was a great quantity of nails of all sizes, some crooked and some straight, some whole and some broken, and all mixed up in confusion with a mass of old iron, such as rings, parts of hinges, old locks and fragments of keys. Stuyvesant selected from this mass a nail, of the size that he thought was proper, and then went to his ladder to apply it, to see whether it would do.
“It is too large,” said Phonny.
“No,” said Stuyvesant, “it is just right. I want the nail to go through and come out on the other side, so that I can clinch it.”
“You can’t clinch such nails as these,” said Phonny. “They are cut nails, and they will break off if you try to clinch them.”
“But I shall soften them first,” said Stuyvesant.