"And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. 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. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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