, 'tis the road to Arden, ye were sayin', and anythin'
at all can happen on the way."

The girl laughed with him. "And ye'll be telling me next that this is
three hundred years ago, and romance and Willie Shakespeare are still
alive." Her mind went racing back to the "once-upon-a-time days," the
days when chivalry walked abroad--before it took up its permanent
residence between the covers of story-books--when poets and saints,
kings' sons and--tinkers journeyed afar to prove their manhood in
deeds instead of inheritances; when it was no shame to live by one's
wits or ask hospitality at any strange door. Ah--those were the days!
And yet--and yet--could not those days be given back to the world
again? And would not the world be made a merrier, sweeter place
because of them? If Patsy could have had her way she would have gone
forth at the ring of each new day like the angel in the folk tale,
and with her shears cut the nets that bound humanity down to petty
differences in creed or birth or tongue.

"Faith, it makes one sick," she thought. "We tell our children the
tales of the Red Branch Knights--of King Arthur and the Knights of
the Grail--and rejoice afresh over the beauty and wonder of them; we
stand by the hour worshiping at the pictures of the saints--simple
men and women who just went about doing kindness; and we read the
Holy Book--the tales of Christ with his fishermen, wandering about,
looking for some good deed to do, some helpfulness to give, some word
of good cheer to speak; and we pray, 'Father, make us good--even as
Thou wert.' And what does it all mean? We hurry through the streets
afeared to stop on the corner and succor a stranger, or ashamed to
speak a friendly word to a troubled soul in a tram-car; and we go
home at night and lock our doors so that the beggar who asked for a
bit of bread at noon can't come round after dark and steal the
silver." Patsy sighed regretfully--if only this were olden times she
would not be dreading to find Arden now and the man she was seeking
there.

The tinker caught the sigh and looked over at her with a puzzled
frown. "Tired?" he asked, laconically.

"Aye, a bit heart-tired," she agreed, "and I'm wishing Arden was
still a good seven miles away."

Whereupon the tinker turned his head and grinned sheepishly toward
the south.

* * * * *

The far-away hills had gathered in the last of the sun unto
themselves when the two turned down the