"In the woods all about us do grow vines very strong and pliable—would these serve, think you?"
"Ha—an excellent thought!" says I. "To-morrow we will attempt it. As to fish-hooks, I might contrive them out of my nails hammered small, though I fear they'd be but clumsy. Had I but a good stout pin—"
"I have two, Martin, here in my shoe-buckles."
"Show me!" Stooping, she slipped off one of her shoes and gave it to me; and turning it over in my hand I saw the poor little thing all cut and torn and in woeful estate.
"I must contrive you other shoes and soon!" says I.
"Can you make shoes, Martin?"
"I'll tell you this to-morrow."
"O Martin, 'twould be wonderful if you could, and a great comfort to me."
"Why then, you shall have them, though unlovely things they'll be, I fear."
"No matter so long as they keep out sharp stones and briars, Martin."