carpenter's bench. Felix used to keep his carpenter's bench in an unused corner of the cellar in Wallbridge. And again at first in Boston in a similar unused corner, underneath a dim window by the furnace. And indulged his whim only occasionally—sometimes on Sunday afternoons, and on holidays. But now he worked at it every night.
Sheilah had felt a sharp sting of remorse when she had seen the pleased look on Felix's face, when she first suggested that he set up the carpenter's bench in the dining-room. He had told her he would keep it very neat and wouldn't leave any shavings around at all. He always brushed up ever so carefully before he went to bed. Sheilah used to like to think that perhaps Esther's love of neatness came from Felix, too.
Felix was aware that the carpenter's bench was a symbol of his failure, for Sheilah had not suggested its installation in the dining-room until after it had been proved that he was unable to put his free time to any better use. He became, therefore, pathetically anxious to make it a source of income. It couldn't amount to much, of course, but even a few dollars would help to justify the hours he spent at it. There was a shop in town where he took the pieces of furniture as soon as they were finished, to be sold on commission. The money he thus earned he would bring back to Sheilah with shy and eager
