Part 9 (1/2)
”Brown!” chorused the quorum.
”Wall, boys”--the storekeeper wagged an accusing thumb in the direction of the recently vacated stool--”she was small, warn't she?
An' she's got brown clothes, hain't she? An' she acts queer, doan't she?”
The quorum nodded in solemn agreement.
”But she doan't look like no thief,” interceded the youngest of the ”boys.” He couldn't have been a day over seventy, and it was more than likely that he was still susceptible to youth and beauty!
The rest glowered at him with plain disapproval, while the storekeeper s.h.i.+fted the course of his thumb and wagged it at him instead. ”Si Perkins, that's not for you to say--nor me, neither.
That's up to Green County; an' I cal'ate I'll 'phone over to the sheriff, come mornin', an' tell him our suspicions. By Jack-a-diamonds! I've got to square my conscience.”
The quorum invested their thumbs again and cleared their throats.
VII
THE TINKER PLAYS A PART
There is little of the day's happenings that escapes the ears of a country boy. Every small item of local interest is so much grist for his mill; and there is no more reliable method for a stranger to collect news than a sociable game of ”peg” interspersed with a few casual but diplomatic questions. The tinker played ”peg” the night after he and Patsy reached Lebanon--on the barn floor by the light of a bleary-eyed lantern with Joseph and his brethren, and thereby learned of the visit of the sheriff.
Afterward he sawed and split the apportioned wood which was to pay for Patsy's lodging, and went to sleep on the hay in a state of complete exhaustion. But, for all that, Patsy was wakened an hour before sun-up by a shower of pebbles on the tin roof of the porch, just under her window. Looking out, she spied him below, a silencing finger against his lips, while he waved a beckoning arm toward the road. Patsy dressed and slipped out without a sound.
”What has happened ye?” she whispered, anxiously, looking him well over for some symptoms of sickness or trouble.
His only reply was a mysterious shake of the head as he led the way down the village street, his rags flapping grotesquely in the dawn wind.
There was nothing for Patsy to do except to follow as fast as she could after his long, swinging strides. Lebanon still slept, close-wrapped in its peaceful respectability; even the dogs failed to give them a speeding bark. They stole away as silently as shadows, and as shadows went forth upon the open road to meet the coming day.
A mile beyond the towns.h.i.+p stone the tinker stopped to let Patsy catch up with him; it was a very breathless, disgruntled Patsy.
”Now, by Saint Brendan, what ails ye, lad, to be waking a body up at this time of day? Do ye think it's good morals or good manners to be trailing us off on a bare stomach like this--as if a county full of constables was at our heels? What's the meaning of it? And what will the good folk who cared for us the night think to find us gone with never a word of thanks or explanation?”
The tinker scratched his chin meditatively; it was marked by a day's more growth than on the previous morning, which did not enhance his comeliness or lessen his state of vagabondage. There was something about his appearance that made him out less a fool and more an uncouth rascal; one might easily have trusted him as well as pitied him yesterday--but to-day--Patsy's gaze was critical and not over-flattering.
He saw her look and met it, eye for eye, only he still fumbled his chin ineffectually. ”Have you forgot?” he asked, a bit sheepishly.
”There were the lady's-slippers; you said as how you cared about findin' 'em; and they're not near so pretty an' bright if they're left standin' too long after the dew dries.”
Patsy pulled a wry little smile. ”Is that so? And ye've been after making me trade a feather-bed and a good breakfast for--for the best color of lady's-slippers. Well, if I was Dan instead of myself, standing here, I'd be likely to tell ye to go to the devil--aye, an'
help ye there with my two fists.” Her cheeks were flushed and all the comrades.h.i.+p faded quickly from her eyes.
The tinker said never a word, only his lips parted in a coaxing smile which seemed to say, ”Please go on believing in me,” and his eyes still held hers unwaveringly.
And the tinker's smile won. Bit by bit Patsy's rigid att.i.tude of condemnation relaxed; the comrades.h.i.+p crept back in her eyes, the smile to her lips. ”Heigho! 'Tis a bad bargain ye can't make the best of. But mind one thing, Master Touchstone! Ye'll find the right road to Arden this time or ye and the duke's daughter will part company--for all Willie Shakespeare wrote it otherwise.”
He nodded. ”We can ask the way 's we go. But first we'll be gettin'
the lady's-slippers and some breakfast. You'll see--I'll find them both for you, la.s.s”; and he set off with his swinging stride straight across country, wagging his head wisely. Patsy fell in behind him, and the road was soon out of sight and earshot.