The Tinkerer's Daughter Read Online Free

staring.
    “It’s almost finished,” he said. “Would you like to take a look inside?”
    The shock of my previous experience faded instantly. Tinker saw my wide eyes and smiled. He turned and motioned for me to follow. We went inside the cottage, and he led the way to the back door. I’d never even realized there was a back door because it had been hidden behind shelves. Tinker had moved all of this aside, and now he opened the door into the newly-built room. It was little more than a box with plank floors and bare walls. He stepped inside and I followed.
    “Well what do you think? It’s going to be your room !”
    I looked at him, uncertain as to what I should say. It didn’t look terribly inviting, and I couldn’t imagine what use I might have for a room.
    He smiled. “We will paint it this evening, and tomorrow I’ll make you your own bed. We can decorate it any way you want. And after it’s painted, we’ll put in some furniture of course. Where would you like the window?”
    I was overwhelmed, but his excitement was contagious. I walked around the room for several minutes, imagining what I was supposed to do with such a place. I’d never had a private space of my own.
    I finally decided I wanted a window on the western wall, closest to the trees. I also wanted a window on the roof, so that I could see the sky at night, and so the sun would shine in during the day.
    “I’ll have to think about that,” he mumbled. “Ain’t ever seen a window on a roof before.”
    Over the next few days my room became a quaint, cozy little space. Soon I had a bed and bookshelves just as Tinker had promised, and even a small writing desk. He offered to make one of his light-creations for my room, but I asked for candles. My little accident in the barn had left me with a new respect for Tinker’s devices, and the thing’s proclivity for throwing sparks made me nervous.
     

Chapter 4
     
     
     
    This was the manner in which I came to know Tinker, and it wasn’t the first time I would be surprised by his willingness to push everything aside just to make me comfortable or happy. That was Tinker’s way. Despite his quiet, solitary nature, Tinker’s heart was in everything he did, especially when it came to his friends. Not only that, Tinker was also the smartest person I ever met.
    He was a quiet man, not given to boasting or showing off, and because of this most people never really knew him. If I hadn’t seen the things that I witnessed in the days to come, I never would have guessed the true depth of Tinker’s character. But even then, before I really knew anything about him, I learned something from him every single day. Tinker never withheld knowledge from me, and more importantly, he gave me the curiosity to seek it out myself. Without this curiosity, things never would have turned out like they did.
    The weeks slipped quietly by, and over time Tinker and I became close friends. He began to teach me details about his work; about the mechanisms inside a clock or the way that iron could be turned to steel and made into things like blades and springs. He encouraged me to think of new ways to use the junk we had, and I found myself approaching the world from a decidedly Tinkerish perspective. The more I watched Tinker and learned, the more I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Tinkering was fun!
    Unfortunately, there was very little work that was safe for a child and I continued to spend much of my time wandering the woods around the cottage and listening to the quiet thoughts of the trees. I stayed far away from the barn and anything else that looked even remotely explosive.
    Gradually, Tinker’s little cottage became my home. There were still nights when I would lie in bed and think of my father –and on occasion I might shed a few tears-but for the most part I had gotten used to my new life. On those nights when I was sad and lonely, I would sneak up the ladder into Tinker’s bed and curl up next to him.
     
    It