“I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. ‘Not from the nuns, no. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. Come and help me pack.
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