sy
stepped out of the cross-roads church, peacefully radiant, and found
the tinker sitting quietly with his back against the post.

"So ye are still here. I thought ye might have grown tired of my
company, after all, and gone on." Patsy laughed happily. "Now do ye
know which road goes to Arden?"

"Sure," and the tinker joined in her laugh, while he pointed to the
straight road ahead, the road that ran west, at right angles to the
one the runabout had taken.

"Come on, then," said Patsy; "we ought to be there by sundown." She
stopped and looked him over for the space of a second. "Ye are
improving wonderfully. Mind! ye mustn't be getting too keen-witted or
we'll have to be parting company."

"Why?"

"That's the why!" And with this satisfactory explanation she led the
way down the road the tinker had pointed.

VI

AT DAY'S END

Their road went the way of the setting sun, and Patsy and the tinker
traveled it leisurely--after the fashion of those born to the road,
who find their joy in the wandering, not in the making of a distance
or the reaching of a destination. Since they had left the cross-roads
church behind Patsy had marked the tinker casting furtive glances
along the way they had come; and each time she marked, as well, the
flash of a smile that lightened his face for an instant when he saw
that the road still remained empty of aught but themselves.

"It's odd," she mused; "he hasn't the look of a knave who might fear
a trailing of constables at his heels; and yet--and yet his wits have
him pestered about something that lies back of him."

Once it was otherwise. There was a rising of dust showing on one of
the hills they had climbed a good half-hour before. When the tinker
saw it he reached of a sudden for Patsy's hand while he pointed
excitedly beyond pasture bars ahead to a brownish field that lay some
distance from the road.

"See, lass, that's sorrel. If you'll break the road along with me
I'll show you where wild strawberries grow, lots of 'em!"

Her answer was to take the pasture bars at a run as easily as any
country-bred urchin. The tinker swung himself after her, an odd wisp
of a smile twisting the corners of his mouth, just such a smile as
the fool might wear on the road to Arden. The two raced for the
sorrel-tops--the tinker winning.

When Patsy caught up he was on his knees, his head bare, his eyes
sparkling riotously, running his fingers exultantly through the green
leaves tha