as small wonder, therefore, that they refused to
acknowledge the man in his well-cut suit of gray who was leaning
partly against the hole of a tree and partly on a pilgrim staff. She
stood and stared and gave no sign of greeting.

"Well, so the Duke's daughter found her rhyme?"

"I'm not knowing whether I'll own ye or not. Sure, ye've no longer
the look of an honest tinker; and maybe we'd best part company
now--before we meet at all."

But the tinker had her firmly by both hands. "That's too late now. I
would have come in rags if there'd been anything left of them, but
they are the only things I intend to part company with. And do you
know"--he gripped her hands tighter--"I met an acquaintance as I came
this way who told me, with eyes nearly popping out of his head, that
the wonderful little person who had played herself straight into
hundreds of hearts had actually been his cook for three days. Oh,
lass! lass! how could you do it!"

"Troth! God made me a better cook than actress. Ye wouldn't want me
to be slighting His handiwork entirely, would ye?"

The tinker shook his head at her. "Do you know what I wanted to say
to every one of those people who had been watching you? I wanted to
say: 'You think she is a wonderful actress; she is more than that.
She is a rare, sweet, true woman, better and finer than any play she
may act in or any part she may play in it. I, the tinker, have
discovered this; and I know her better than does any one else in the
whole world.'"

"Is that so?" A teasing touch of irony crept into Patsy's voice.
"'Tis a pity, now, the manager couldn't be hearing ye; he might give
ye a chance to understudy Orlando."

"And you think I'd be content to understudy any one! Why, I'm going
to pitch Orlando straight out of the Forest of Arden; I'm going to
pull Willie Shakespeare out of his grave and make him rewrite the
whole play--putting a tinker in the leading role."

"And is it a tragedy ye would have him make it?"

"Would it be a tragedy to take a tinker 'for better--for worse'?"

"Faith! that would depend on the tinker."

"Oh-ho, so it's up to the tinker, is it? Well, the tinker will prove
it otherwise; he will guarantee to keep the play running pure comedy
to the end. So that settles it, Miss Patricia O'Connell--alias
Rosalind, alias the cook--alias Patsy--the best little comrade a
lonely man ever found. I am going to marry you the day after
to-morrow, right here in Arden."

Patsy looked a