“Come upstairs,” she said, “and I will show you your room. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship.
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