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"No, I haven't started yet," he explained, airily. "I—I think I've lost my charcoal."
"You have it in your hand," she said, dryly.
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"Why, so I have!" He looked at
it in surprise. "Er—does it always
come off on the fingers!"
"Generally," she replied, turning back to her work.
"I think I'll just wash my hand," he announced. "I always like to have clean hands when I start to work." He arose, followed by the attentive Bistre, and by careful management reached the brook, rinsed his hands in the water, dried them on Bistre's back, and returned to his seat. Then he lighted his pipe, consuming a deal of valuable time in the process and humming the song about the bachelor. That operation completed, he looked
