, sure I'll play it
according to the best rules; the villain has fled, the hero is hurt,
and if I went now I'd be hissed by the gallery. I've got ye into
trouble and I'll not leave ye till I see ye out of it--someway. Oh,
there's lots of ways; I'm thinking them fast. Like as not a passing
team or car would carry ye to Arden; or we might beg the loan of a
horse for a bit from some kind-hearted farmer, and I could drive ye
over and bring the horse back; or we'll ask a corner for ye at a
farm-house till ye are fit to walk--"

"We are in the wrong part of the country for any of those things to
happen. Look about! Don't you see what a very different road it is
from the one we took in the beginning?"

Patsy looked and saw. So engrossed had she been in the incidents of
the last hour or more that she had not observed the changing country.
Here were no longer pastures, tilled fields, houses with neighboring
barn-yards, and unclaimed woodland; no longer was the road fringed
with stone walls or stump fencing. Well-rolled golf-links stretched
away on either hand as far as they could see; and, beyond, through
the trees, showed roofs of red tile and stained shingle; and trimmed
hedges skirted everything.

"'Tis the rich man's country," commented Patsy.

"It is, and I'd crawl into a hole and starve before I'd take charity
from one of them."

"Sure and ye would. When a body's poor 'tis only the poor like
himself he'd be asking help of. Don't I know! What's yonder house?"
She broke off with a jerk and pointed ahead to a small building,
sitting well back from the road, partly hidden in the surrounding
clumps of trees.

"It's a stable; house burned down last year and it hasn't been used
by any one since."

"And I'll wager it's as snug as a pocket inside--with fresh hay or
straw, plenty to make a lad comfortable. Isn't that grand good luck
for ye?"

The tinker found it hard to echo Patsy's enthusiasm, but he did his
best. "Of course; and it's just the place to leave a lad behind in
when a lass has seven miles to tramp before she gets to the end of
her journey."

"Is that so?" Patsy's tone sounded suspiciously sarcastic. "Well,
talking's not walking; supposing ye take the staff in one hand and
lean your other on me, and we'll see can we make it before this time
to-morrow."

They made it in another hour, unobserved by the few straggling
players on the links.

The stable proved all Patsy had anticipated. She watched the tinke