r man. But that's not the way that leads off the
road to Arden--and it's not my way. I know my man now--God bless
him." And away she ran through the trees and out of sight.

The tinker watched the trees and underbrush swing into place,
covering her exit. So tense and motionless he stood, one might have
suspected him of trying to conjure her back again by the simple magic
of heart and will. It turned out a disappointing piece of conjuring,
however; the green parted again, but not to redisclose Patsy. A man,
instead, walked into the open, toward the giant oaks, and one glimpse
of him swept the tinker's memory back to a certain afternoon and a
cross-roads. He could see himself sitting propped up by the
sign-post, watching the door of a little white church, while down the
road clattered a sorrel mare and a runabout. And the man that
drove--the man who was trailing Patsy--was the man that came toward
him now, looking for--some one.

"You haven't seen--" he began, but the tinker interrupted him:

"Guess not. I've been watching the company break up. Rather
interesting to any one not used to that sort of thing--don't you
think?"

The man eyed him narrowly; then cautiously he dropped into an
attitude of exaggerated indifference. "It sure is--young feller. Now
you hain't been watchin' that there leadin' lady more particularly,
have you? I sort o' cal'ate she might have a takin' way with the
fellers," and he prodded the tinker with a jocular thumb.

The tinker responded promptly with a foolish grin. "Maybe I
have; but the luck was dead against me. Guess she had a lot of
friends with her. I saw them carry her off in triumph in a big
touring-car--probably they'll dine her at the country club."

The man did not wait for further exchange of pleasantries. He took
the direction the tinker indicated, and the tinker watched him go
with a suppressed chuckle.

"History positively stutters sometimes. Now if that property-man knew
what he was talking about the company will be safe out of Arden
before a runabout could make the country club and back." But the
tinker's mirth was of short duration. With a shout of derision, he
slapped the pocket of his trousers viciously.

"What a confounded fool I am! Why in the name of reason didn't I
give them to him and stop this sleuth business before it really gets
her into trouble? Of all the idiotic--senseless--" and, leaning on
the pilgrim staff, he slowly hobbled in the same direction he had