"
Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was
surprised to see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's
body! Corson Vanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful,
brown, wavy hair, and a fine mustache. He was probably all of
twenty-five years old.
But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind,
more than in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his
speech and manner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then
chattered like a six-year-old child to her when she had once
gained his confidence.
He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well
indeed, old Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the
wagon and steered it. His arms and hands were quite strong, and
when he wished to get back on to the piazza, he seized a rope his
grandfather had hung there, and dragged himself, wagon and all,
up the inclined plane, or gangplank, as it might be called.
He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very
childish toys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of
his grandfather's blunt fingers. But among them, too, were
treasures from the swamp and woods that were both very wonderful
and very beautiful.
Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were
specimens of preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of
the gay and common varieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were
rare and valuable.
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