*

As the tinker led her out of the store the quorum eyed her silently
for a moment. For a brief space there was a scraping of chairs and
clearing of throats, indicative of some important comment.

"What sort of a lookin' gal did that Green County sheriff say he was
after?" inquired the storekeeper at last.

"Small, warn't it?" suggested one of the quorum.

"Yep, guess it was. And what sort o' clothes did he say she wore?"

"Brown!" chorused the quorum.

"Wall, boys"--the storekeeper wagged an accusing thumb in the
direction of the recently vacated stool--"she was small, warn't she?
An' she's got brown clothes, hain't she? An' she acts queer, doan't
she?"

The quorum nodded in solemn agreement.

"But she doan't look like no thief," interceded the youngest of the
"boys." He couldn't have been a day over seventy, and it was more
than likely that he was still susceptible to youth and beauty!

The rest glowered at him with plain disapproval, while the
storekeeper shifted the course of his thumb and wagged it at him
instead. "Si Perkins, that's not for you to say--nor me, neither.
That's up to Green County; an' I cal'ate I'll 'phone over to
the sheriff, come mornin', an' tell him our suspicions. By
Jack-a-diamonds! I've got to square my conscience."

The quorum invested their thumbs again and cleared their throats.

VII

THE TINKER PLAYS A PART

There is little of the day's happenings that escapes the ears of a
country boy. Every small item of local interest is so much grist for
his mill; and there is no more reliable method for a stranger to
collect news than a sociable game of "peg" interspersed with a few
casual but diplomatic questions. The tinker played "peg" the night
after he and Patsy reached Lebanon--on the barn floor by the light of
a bleary-eyed lantern with Joseph and his brethren, and thereby
learned of the visit of the sheriff.

Afterward he sawed and split the apportioned wood which was to pay
for Patsy's lodging, and went to sleep on the hay in a state of
complete exhaustion. But, for all that, Patsy was wakened an hour
before sun-up by a shower of pebbles on the tin roof of the porch,
just under her window. Looking out, she spied him below, a silencing
finger against his lips, while he waved a beckoning arm toward the
road. Patsy dressed and slipped out without a sound.

"What has happened ye?" she whispered, anxiously, looking him well
over for some symptoms of sickness or