"The thousands and thousands of these Noah's arks that I have made--horses and chickens and elephants--and always there never seems to be enough.

It's a good thing for me that children break their things, and that they all have to have birthdays and Christmases." She dipped her brush into a pot of Vandyke brown and painted one of the whittled toy horses in two strokes.

Then a touch of ivory black with a small flat brush created the tail and mane, and dots of Chinese white made the eyes.

The turpentine in the paint dried it almost immediately, and she tossed the completed little horse into the basket.
At six o'clock the dentist had not returned.

Trina waited until seven, and then put her work away, and ate her supper alone.
"I wonder what's keeping Mac," she exclaimed as the clock from the power-house on Sutter Street struck half-past seven.