She was at the foundry early the following day, sitting and watching as he pounded out the knife blade that he was working on. His arm, and the hammer...in it, fairly sang to him that morning. Every blow he struck seemed to accomplish exactly what he wanted it to. He had had this happen to him before, but only rarely. Always, when it got like that, the metal he was working on would turn out to be something of special worth or exceptional beauty. When Water left this time, he set aside the blade. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.Her musical giggle followed me."Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity. More

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