Scrambling over a limestone wall tufted thick with parsley fern, he noticed Mabel stooping down over an object which lay among the heather where a rough cartroad approached a wooden bridge. On joining her, he saw that it was a finely-built canoe with a hole in one bilge she was examining. She looked up at him ruefully, as she said, "Very sad, isn't it? That stupid Little did it with his clumsy cart." "I think it could be mended," Vane replied. "Old Beavan--he's the wheelwright--said it couldn't, and dad said I could hardly expect him to send the canoe back to Kingston. He bought it for me at an exhibition." Then a thought seemed to strike her. "Perhaps you had something to do with canoes in Canada?" "I used to pole one loaded with provisions up a river, and carry the lot round several falls. You're fond of paddling." "I love it. I used to row the fishing-punt, but it's too old to be safe, and now the canoe's smashed I can't go out." "Well," said Vane, "we'll walk across and see what we can find in Beavan's shop." They crossed the heath to a tiny hamlet nestling in a hollow of a limestone crag. There Vane made friends with the wheelwright, who regarded him dubiously at first, and obtained a piece of larch board from him. The grizzled North countryman watched him closely as he set a plane, which is a delicate operation, and then raised no objection when Vane made use of his work bench. After that, Vane, who had sawn up the board, borrowed a few tools and copper nails, and he and Mabel went back to the canoe. On the way she glanced at him curiously. "I wasn't sure old Beavan would let you have the things," she remarked. "It isn't often he'll lend even a hammer, but he seemed to take to you; I think it was the way you handled his plane." "It's strange what little things win some people's good opinion, isn't it?" "Oh! don't," she exclaimed. "That's how the Archdeacon talks. I thought you were different." The man acquiesced in the rebuke, and after an hour's labour at the canoe, scraped the red lead he had used off his hands, and sat down beside the craft. By and by he became conscious that his companion was regarding him with what seemed to be approval. "I really think you'll do, and we'll get on," she informed him. "If you had been the wrong kind you would have worried about your red hands. Still, you could have rubbed them on the heather, instead of on your socks." "I might have thought of that," Vane agreed. "But, you see, I've been accustomed to wearing old clothes. Anyway, you'll be able to launch the canoe as soon as the joint's dry." "There's one thing I should have told you," the girl replied. "Dad would have sent the canoe away to be mended if it hadn't been so far. He's very good when things don't ruffle him; but he hasn't been fortunate lately. The lead mine takes a good deal of money."