He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Sorvelli caught me! In Fourth Grade, I broke my arm because I tripped on a metal doorway. Horrible!" "Poor soul! her senses are going again," said Mr. She held out the foil. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. I tell you that because it puts us on a footing. You will only make me hurt you the more. But, hang it, I know it's good!" "Of course it is!" In the afternoon he began work on another tale.
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