Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. "An American. “Difficulties indeed. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. 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. “I really owe him something of an apology. I can’t. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. This is clear over my head. Coat, on the present occasion, he had none, it being more convenient, as well as agreeable to him, to pursue his avocations in his shirtsleeves; but, when fully equipped, he wore a large-cuffed, long-skirted garment, which had once been the property of his master. I was his wife.
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