And yet, looked at in a certain way, their lonely courses formed no detached design at all, but were part of the pattern in the great web of human doings then weaving in both hemispheres, from the White Sea to Cape Horn.
The shed was reached, and she pointed out the spars.

Winterborne regarded them silently, then looked at her.
"Now, Marty, I believe--" he said, and shook his head.
"What ?" "That you've done the work yourself." "Don't you tell anybody, will you, Mr.Winterborne ?" she pleaded, by way of answer.

"Because I am afraid Mr.Melbury may refuse my work if he knows it is mine." "But how could you learn to do it?
'Tis a trade." "Trade!" said she.

"I'd be bound to learn it in two hours." "Oh no, you wouldn't, Mrs.Marty." Winterborne held down his lantern, and examined the cleanly split hazels as they lay.

"Marty," he said, with dry admiration, "your father with his forty years of practice never made a spar better than that.