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14-year old Hyacinthe, a carpenter’s apprentice, is left alone on Christmas Eve to finish crafting a cabinet for Madame. Fearing his master’s thrashings and emitting great sobs of despair, Hyacinthe is interrupted by a knock at the door. “Let me help you...I was also bred a carpenter,” says a man. The message is perhaps a little twee in its transparency, but Pickthall wasn’t trying to bamboozle; she was simply writing a cosy, reverent tale about how God is ever-watchful and how his help, even when given at the eleventh hour, can transform the messiest situations into something beautiful. Composition optimized for a 1:1 aspect ratio.

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