A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figurehead.
Nay, it was to be "all wrought out of the carver's brain," and the brain was ready.
It would be a shame in the country, and what would Mrs. Carver herself think?
And all the edication she got at Mrs. Carver's Sunday school!
Mr. Carver says, you are as good as the Bank of Ireland—there's no going beyond that.
Ay, and if it would, then, it's Carver that would quake like the aspin leaf—I know that.
From carelessness in not covering the latter with paper, it is sometimes dried up, to the great disappointment of the carver.
Carver, Bradford, Winslow, and Standish were of their number.
She answered that she hoped I did not mean to compare Mr. Carver with you.
He's come and so's his daughter and that young Carver feller.