It
was a peach of a tool box, too; not one of the dime store variety,
with a saw the same length as the gimlet, but with a set of tools that
no amateur carpenter would despise. I was greatly delighted with that
tool box, and immediately began planning the things I would make.
Mother wanted a shelf on the back porch and a coop for an old hen just
off with her chicks; my dog needed a dog house, and I even aspired to
a rowboat for the pond. I could hardly wait for material before
getting to work. Fingering over those tools, my eye fell upon a motto
graven on the inside of the lid of the box. It read:
BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT--THEN GO AHEAD
Very good advice, I thought; but perhaps intended for fellows who knew
less about tools than I did. I guessed I was not so apt to make
mistakes, knowing so well what I wanted to do, and being so determined
to do it. Several dollars' worth of lumber and nails were laid in, and
I entered at once upon the work of "general manufacturing." Fritz was
wagging his tail and barking as if he had scented the dog house in my
plans, so I decided to attend to that first. It would have been better
to start with the shelf, as that was simpler; but I slashed away on
the dog house, and soon had some stuff sawed up for the framework. It
didn't match. I sawed some more, and that didn't match.
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