f blame or compliment. But there was that in
his soul, which even now had waked the mother's wonder and set
forth a riddle none were able to solve.

III

The Clock Tinker

The harvesting was over in Brier Dale. It was near dinner-time,
and Allen, Trove, and the two hired men were trying feats in the
dooryard. Trove, then a boy of fifteen, had outdone them all at
the jumping. A stranger came along, riding a big mare with a young
filly at her side. He was a tall, spare man, past middle age, with
a red, smooth-shaven face and long, gray hair that fell to his
rolling collar. He turned in at the gate. A little beyond it his
mare halted for a mouthful of grass. The stranger unslung a strap
that held a satchel to his side and hung it on the pommel.

"Go and ask what we can do for him," Allen whispered to the boy.

Trove went down the drive, looking up at him curiously.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired.

"Give me thy youth," said the stranger, quickly, his gray eyes
twinkling under silvered brows.

The boy, now smiling, made no answer.

"No?" said the man, as he came on slowly. "Well, then, were thy
wit as good as thy legs it would be o' some use to me."

The words were spoken with dignity in a deep, kindly tone. They
were also faintly salted with Irish brogue.

He approached the men, all eyes fixed upon him with a look of
inquiry.

"Have ye ever seen a drunken sailor on a mast?" he inquired of
Allen,

"No."

"Well, sor," said the stranger, dismounting slowly, "I am not that.
Let me consider--have ye ever seen a cocoanut on a plum tree?"

"I believe not," said Allen, laughing.

"Well, sor, that is more like me. 'Tis long since I rode a horse,
an' am out o' place in the saddle."

He stood erect with dignity, a smile deepening the many lines in
his face.

"Can I do anything for you?" Allen asked.

"Ay--cure me o' poverty--have ye any clocks to mend?"

"Clocks! Are you a tinker?" said Allen.

"I am, sor, an' at thy service. Could beauty, me lord, have better
commerce than with honesty?"

They all surveyed him with curiosity and amusement as he tied the
mare.

All had begun to laugh. His words came rapidly on a quick
undercurrent of good nature. A clock sounded the stroke of midday.

"What, ho! The clock," said he, looking at his watch. "Thy time
hath a lagging foot, Marry, were I that slow, sor, I'd never get to
Heaven."

"Mother," said Allen, going to the doorstep, "he