without reaching the end of all
things and tumbling into heaven. I tell you I have traveled the world
more than any man living, and it takes me all my time to keep from
falling off the brink. Round? The world is one great precipice!

Joyce: I said so! I said so! I know I was right! I should like to
tell--them so.

Martin: Were you only able to go out of the Orchard, you would be free
to tell--them so. They are such fools, these men.

Joyce: Not in all matters, Master Pippin, but certainly in this. They
are good at some things.

Martin: For my part I can't think what.

Joyce: They whitewash cowsheds beautifully.

Martin: Who wouldn't? Whitewash is such beautiful stuff. No, let us be
done with these round-minded men and go to bed. Good night, dear
milkmaid.

Joyce: Ah, but singer! you have not yet proved your fable of the two
hairs, which you swore were as hard to keep apart as the two lovers in
your tale.

"Whom love guarded against accidents," said Martin; and he held out to
her the third finger of his left hand, and wound at its base were the
two hairs, in a ring as fine as a cobweb. She took his finger between
two of hers and laughed, and examined it, and laughed again.

"You have been playing the god of love to my hairs," said Joyce.

"Somebody must protect those that cannot, or will not, be kind to
themselves," said Martin. And then his other fingers closed quickly on
her hand, and he said: "Dear Mistress Joyce, help me to play the god of
love to Gillian, and give me your key to the Well-House, because there
were moments when you feared my tale would end unhappily."

She pulled her hand away and began to swing rapidly, without answering.
But presently she exclaimed, "Oh, oh! it has dropped!"

"What? what?" said Martin anxiously.

But she only cried again, "Oh, my heart! it has dropped under the
swing."

"In love's name," said Martin, "let me recover your heart."

He groped in the grass and found what she had dropped, and then was
obliged to fall flat on his back to escape her feet as she swung.

"Well, any time's a time for laughing," said Martin, crawling forth and
getting on his knees. "Here's the key to your heart, laughing Joyce."

"Oh, Martin! how can I take it with my hands on the ropes?"

"Then I'll lay it on your lap."

"Oh, Martin! how do you expect it to stay there while I swing?"

"Then you must stop swinging."

"Oh, Martin! I will never stop swinging as long as I live!"

"Then