His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. "Gracious Heavens! this is more wonderful than all the rest," cried the carpenter, rubbing his eyes. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. Wood represents him?" "He's not exactly what I could desire him to be, Joan," replied the carpenter, reluctantly, "But a ragged colt sometimes makes the best horse. “I’ve got nothing in the world to pack with except a toy size portmanteau.
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