t carpeted the ground. "See," he chuckled, "the tinker
knows somethin' more 'n solder and pots."

Patsy's eyes danced. There they were--millions of the tiny red
berries, as thick and luscious as if they had been planted in Elysian
fields for Arcadian folk to gather. "The wee, bonnie things!" she
laughed. "Now, how were ye afther knowing they were here?"

The tinker cocked his head wisely. "I know more 'n that; I know where
to find yellow lady's-slippers 'n' the yewberries 'n' hummin'-bird
nests."

She looked at him joyfully; he was turning out more and more to her
liking. "Could ye be showing them to me, lad?" she asked.

The tinker eyed her bashfully. "Would you--care, then?"

"Sure, and I would;" and with that she was flat on the ground beside
him, her fingers flying in search of strawberries.

So close they lay to the earth, so hidden by the waving sorrel and
neighboring timothy, that had a whole county full of constables been
abroad they could have passed within earshot and never seen them
there.

With silence between them they ate until their lips were red and the
cloud of dust on the hill back of them had whirled past, attendant on
a sorrel mare and runabout. They ate until the road was quite empty
once more; and then the tinker pulled Patsy to her feet by way of
reminding her that Arden still lay beyond them.

"Do ye know," said Patsy, after another silence and they were once
more afoot, "I'm a bit doubtful if the banished duke's daughter ever
tasted anything half as sweet as those berries on her road to Arden;
or, for that matter, if she found her fool half as wise. I'm mortial
glad ye didn't fall off that stump this morning afore I came by to
fetch ye off."

The tinker doffed his battered cap unexpectedly and swept her an
astounding bow.

"Holy Saint Christopher!" ejaculated Patsy. "Ye'll be telling me ye
know Willie Shakespeare next."

But the tinker answered with a blank stare, while the far-away,
bewildered look of fear came back to his eyes. "Who's he? Does he
live 'round here?" he asked, dully.

Patsy wrinkled a perplexed forehead. "Lad, lad, ye have me bursting
with wonderment! Ye are a rare combination, even for an Irish tinker;
but if ye are a fair sample of what they are over here, sure the
States have the Old Country beaten entirely."

And the tinker laughed as he had laughed once before that day--the
free, untrammeled laugh of youth, while he saucily mimicked her Irish
brogue. "Sure