. He
loved fun, but he had no conceit for this kind of banter.

"It was one of my best accomplishments," said he, blushing. "I
taught them that there was really a world outside their house and
that men were not all as lions, seeking whom they might devour."

Soon the widow and her boys came, their pails full of berries.

"We cannot shake hands with you," said Mrs. Vaughn, her fingers red
with the berry stain.

"Blood o' the old earth!" said Darrel. "How fares the clock?"

"It's too slow, Polly says."

"Ah, time lags when love is on the way," Darrel answered.

"Foolish child! A little while ago she was a baby, an' now she is
in love."

"Ah, let the girl love," said Darrel, patting the red cheek of
Polly, "an' bless God she loves a worthy lad,"

"You'd better fix the clock." said Polly, smiling. "It is too
fast, now."

"So is the beat o' thy heart," Darrel answered, a merry look in his
eyes, "an' the clock is keeping pace."

Trove got up, with a laugh, and went away, the boys following.

"I'm worried about him," the widow whispered. "For a long time he
hasn't been himself."

"It's the trouble--poor lad! 'Twill soon be over," said Darrel,
hopefully.

There were now tears in the eyes of Polly.

"I do not think he loves me any more," said she, her lips trembling.

"Speak not so, dear child; indeed he loves thee."

"I have done everything to please him," said Polly, in broken
words, her face covered with her handkerchief.

"I wondered what was the matter with you, Polly," said her mother,
tenderly.

"Dear, dear child!" said the tinker, rising and patting her head.
"The chaplet on thy brow an' thee weeping!--fairest flower of all!"

"I have wished that I was dead;" the words came in a little moan
between sobs.

"Because: Love hath led thee to the great river o' tears? Nay,
child, 'tis a winding river an' crosses all the roads."

He had taken her handkerchief, and with a tender touch was drying
her eyes.

"Now I can see thee smiling, an' thy lashes, child--they are like
the spray o' the fern tip when the dew is on it."

Polly rose and went away into the house. Darrel wiped his eyes,
and the widow sat, her chin upon her hand, looking down sadly and
thoughtfully. Darrel was first to speak.

"Did it ever occur to ye, Martha Vaughn, this child o' thine is
near a woman but has seen nothing o' the world ?"

"I think of that often," said she, the mother's feeling in her
voice.

"Well, if