Anna said nothing. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation.
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