Part 6 (1/2)

”She's a funny kitty,” he said.

The foreman stooped down.

”I think you'd better tell me your name,” he said. ”I like to know the names of my friends.”

”My name is David,” the little boy answered.

”And mine is Jonathan,” said the foreman quickly. ”Think of that! Now, Davie, come with me and let's see how the other men are getting on.”

So David put his little hand into the foreman's big one, and they started; and David saw some men putting up a great, tall beam on one of the corners.

Two men were holding it, and another man reached up as high as he could and nailed a board to it, and the other end of the board was fastened down low, so that the tall beam shouldn't fall over when the men let go.

”What are those men doing?” David asked. ”That sticks up like my kitty's tail, doesn't it?”

”So it does,” the foreman said. ”There'll be more of them presently, sticking up all along every side.”

”Will there? How many of those sticks will there be?”

”Oh, I don't know; more than fifty, I should think.”

”A cat with fifty tails.” And the little boy laughed. ”Did you ever see a kitty with fifty tails?”

”All sticking straight up in the air!” said the foreman. ”That _would_ be funny. She'd look like a porcupine.”

”What _is_ a porcupine?” David asked. ”Did I ever see one?”

”I guess not,” the foreman answered. ”Anyway, I never did. It's a little animal all covered with sharp things. It's just as if your kitty's fur was about three or four times as long as it is, and every hair was stiff and sharp. There's a great rattling as they walk, I'm told. The Indians used to sew the quills--the sharp things--on their soft leather slippers, because they looked pretty.”

”Tell me some more about them,” said David.

”I don't know any more. See, Davie, the men are putting up another stick.”

So David watched the men put up that stick, and he forgot about the porcupine, which was what the foreman wanted.

And then he watched them put up another, and then another.

”They look as if they were the bones of the house,” he said.

”So they do, Davie,” the foreman said, ”and so they are. And the whole frame, before it's boarded in--before any boards are nailed on--looks like the skeleton of a house, and so it is. They'll have pretty near the whole frame up by the time you eat your supper; or to-morrow morning, at any rate. Then you look and see. It's much the same way that your body's made: your ribs and the other bones are the frame, and inside you there are a lot of rooms, and it's all covered with soft skin instead of boards.”

”Am I? What are my ribs?”

”These bones.” And the foreman stooped and ran his finger quickly down David's ribs, and David shrieked with laughter.

”Tickles,” said David. ”Show me my ribs again.”

”It isn't good for little boys to be tickled too much,” said the foreman. ”Now we'll go over to the sand-pile for a while. I don't want to take you into the house until they get the frame all up and some floors down. It isn't safe.”