said Una , coming forward . ` Surely -- sure-ly ! ' he said , moving up on the window-seat , and returned to his work with a silver-pointed pencil . Puck sat as though the grin were fixed for ever on his broad face , while they watched the quick , certain fingers that copied it . Presently the man took a reed pen from his satchel , and trimmed it with a little ivory knife , carved in the semblance of a fish . ` Oh , what a beauty ! ' cried Dan . '' Ware fingers ! That blade is perilous sharp . I made it myself of the best Low Country cross-bow steel . And so , too , this fish . When his back-fin travels to his tail -- so -- he swallows up the blade , even as the whale swallowed Gaffer Jonah ... Yes , and that 's my ink-horn . I made the four silver saints round it . Press Barnabas 's head . It opens , and then -- ' He dipped the trimmed pen , and with careful boldness began to put in the essential lines of Puck 's rugged face , that had been but faintly revealed by the silver-point . The children gasped , for it fairly leaped from the page . As he worked , and the rain fell on the tiles , he talked -- now clearly , now muttering , now breaking off to frown or smile at his work . He told them he was born at Little Lindens Farm , and his father used to beat him for drawing things instead of doing things , till an old priest called Father Roger , who drew illuminated letters in rich people 's books , coaxed the parents to let him take the boy as a sort of painter 's apprentice . Then he went with Father Roger to Oxford , where he cleaned plates and carried cloaks and shoes for the scholars of a College called Merton . ` Did n't you hate that ? '
said XXXXX after a great many other questions . '
Barnabas Dan Jonah Merton Oxford Puck Roger back-fin cloaks silver-point