o possess yourself of his cap--you
could get almost anything from him.

"I held his cap firmly with the one hand and him by the scruff of the
neck with the other; and says I to him, 'Little man, ye'll not be
getting this back till ye've fetched me a dinner fit for a tinker.'
'Well, and good,' says he, 'but ye can't find that this side of the
King's Hotel, Dublin; and that will take time.' 'Take the time,' says
I, 'but get the dinner.' And from that minute till the present I've
been waiting under that quicken-tree for him to make the trip there
and back."

Patsy finished, and the two of them smiled at each other with rare
good humor out under the June stars. Only the tinker's smile was
skeptical.

"So--ye are not believing me--" Patsy shammed a solemn, grieved look.
"Well--I'll forgive ye this time if ye'll agree that the dinner was
good, for I'd hate like the devil to be giving the wee man back his
cap for anything but the best."

With laggard grace the tinker stretched his hands over the now empty
basket and gripped Patsy's. "Lass, lass--what are you thinking of me?
Faith! my manners are more ragged than my clothes--and I'm not fit to
be a--tinker. The dinner was the best I ever ate, and--bless ye and
the cluricaun!"

Patsy cooked for three days at Quality House, that the tinker might
feast night and morning to his heart's content while his ankle slowly
mended. But he still persisted questioning concerning his food--where
and how Patsy had come by it; she still maintained as persistent a
silence.

"I've come by it honestly, and 'tis no charity fare," was the most
she would say, adding by way of flavor: "For a sorry tinker ye are
the proudest I ever saw. Did ye ever know another, now, who wanted a
written certificate of moral character along with every morsel he
ate?"

According to wage agreement she had the kitchen to herself; no one
entered except on matters of necessity; no one lingered after her
work was despatched. Madame came twice daily to confer with Patsy on
intricacies of gestation, while she beamed upon her as a probationed
soul might look upon the keeper of the keys of Paradise. But the days
held more for Patsy than sauces and entrees and pastries; they held
gossip as well. Soupcons were served up on loosened tongues, borne in
through open window and swinging door--straight from the dining-room
and my lady's chamber. Most of it passed her ears, unheeded; it was
but a droning accompaniment to her m