t him long and thoughtfully from under the beguiling
shadow of the white chiffon, corn-flower sunbonnet. "'Tis a shame,
just, to discourage anything so brave as a self-made--tinker. But
I'll not be here the day after to-morrow. And what's more, a man is a
fool to marry any woman because he's lonely and she can cook."

The tinker's eyes twinkled. "I don't know. A man might marry for
worse reasons." Then he grew suddenly sober and his eyes looked deep
into hers. "But you know and I know that that is not my reason for
wanting you, or yours for taking me."

"I didn't say I would take ye." This time it was Patsy's eyes that
twinkled. "Do ye think it would be so easy to give up my career--the
big success I've hoped and worked and waited for--just--just for a
tinker? I'd be a fool to think of it." She was smiling inwardly at
her own power of speech, which made what she held as naught sound of
such immeasurable consequence.

But the tinker smiled outwardly. "Where did you say you were going to
be the day after to-morrow?"

"That's another thing I did not say. If ye are going to marry me 'tis
your business to find me." She freed her hands and started off
without a backward glance at him.

"Patsy, Patsy!" he called after her, "wouldn't you like to know the
name of the man you're going to marry?"

She turned and faced him. Framed in the soft, green fringe of the
trees, she seemed to him the very embodiment of young summer--the
free, untrammeled spirit of Arden. Ever since the first he had been
growing more and more conscious of what she was: a nature vital,
beautiful, tender, untouched by the searing things of life--trusting
and worthy of trust; but it was not until this moment that he
realized the future promise of her. And the realization swept all his
smoldering love aflame into his eyes and lips. His arms went out to
her in a sudden, passionate appeal.

"Patsy--Patsy! Would the name make any difference?"

"Why should it?" she cried, with saucy coquetry. "I'm marrying the
man and not his name. If I can stand the one, I can put up with the
other, I'm thinking. Anyhow, 'twill be on the marriage license the
day after to-morrow, and that's time enough."

"Do you really mean you would marry a man, not knowing his name or
anything about his family--or his income--or--"

"That's the civilized way, isn't it?--to find out about those things
first; and afterward it's time enough when you're married to get
acquainted with you