Part 10 (1/2)

With that he went busily about preparations for breakfast, Patsy watching him, plainly astonished. He gathered bark and brush and kindled a fire on a large flat rock which he had moved against a near-by boulder. About it he fastened a tripod of green saplings, from which he hung a coffee-pot, filled from the brook.

”I'm praying there's more nor water in it,” murmured Patsy. And a moment later, as the tinker shook out a small white table-cloth from the basket and spread it at her feet, she clasped her hands and repeated with perfect faith, ”'Little goat bleat, table get set'; I smell the coffee.”

Out of the basket came little green dishes, a pat of b.u.t.ter, a jug of cream, a bowl of berries, a plate of biscuits. ”Riz,” was the tinker's comment as he put down the last named; and then followed what appeared to Patsy to be round, brown, sugared buns with holes in them. These he pa.s.sed twice under her nose with a triumphant flourish.

”And what might they be?” Her curiosity was reaching the breaking-point. ”If ye bring out another thing from that basket I'll believe ye're in league with Bodh Dearg himself, or ye've stolen the faeries' trencher of plenty.”

For reply the tinker dived once more beneath the cover and brought out a frying-pan full of bacon, and four white eggs. ”Think whatever you're mind to, I'm going to fry these.” But after he had raked over the embers to his complete satisfaction and placed the pan on them, he came back and, picking up one of the ”brown buns,” slipped it over Patsy's forefinger. ”This is a wis.h.i.+n'-ring,” he announced, soberly, ”though most folks calls 'em somethin' different. Now if you wish a wish--and eat it--all but the hole, you'll have what you've been wis.h.i.+n' for all your life.”

”How soon will ye be having it?”

”In as many days as there are bites.”

So Patsy bit while the tinker checked them off on his fingers. ”One, two, three, four, five, six. You'll get your wish by the seventh day, sure, or I'm no tinker.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”If you wish a wish and eat it--all but the hole, you'll have what you've been wis.h.i.+n' for all your life.”]

”But are ye?” Patsy shook the de-ringed finger at him accusingly.

”I'm beginning to have my doubts as to whether ye're a tinker at all.

Ye are foolish one minute, and ye've more wits than I have the next; I've caught ye looking too lonesome and helpless to be allowed beyond reach of our mother's kerchief-end, and yet last night and the day ye've taken care of me as if ye'd been hired out to tend babies since ye were one yourself. As for your language, ye never speak twice the same.”

The tinker grinned. ”That bacon's burnin'; I--cal'ate I'd better turn it, hadn't I?”

”I--cal'ate you had,” and Patsy grinned back at him derisively.

The tinker was master of ceremonies, and he served her as any courtier might have served his liege lady. He shook out the diminutive serviette he had brought for her and spread it across her lap; he poured her coffee and sweetened it according to direction; he even b.u.t.tered her ”riz” biscuits and poured the cream on her berries.

”Are ye laboring under the delusion that the duke's daughter was helpless, entirely?” she asked, at length.

The tinker shook an emphatic negative. ”I was just thinkin' she might like things a mite decent--onct in a while.”

”Lad--lad--who in the wide world are ye!” Patsy checked her outburst with a warning hand: ”No--don't ye be telling me. Ye couldn't turn out anything better nor a tinker--and I'd rather keep ye as I found ye. So if ye have a secret--mind it well; and don't ye be letting it loose to scare the two of us into over-wise, conventional folk. We'll play Willie Shakespeare comedy to the end of the road--please G.o.d!”

”Amen!” agreed the tinker, devoutly, as he threw her portion of fried eggs neatly out of the pan into her plate.

It was not until she was served that he looked after his own wants; then they ate in silence, both too hungry and too full of their own thoughts to loosen their tongues.

Once the tinker broke the silence. ”Your wish--what was it?” he asked.

”That's telling,” said Patsy. ”But if ye'll confess to where ye came by this heavenly meal, I might confess to the wish.”

He rubbed his chin solemnly for an instant; then he beamed. ”I'll tell ye. I picked it off o' the fern-tops and brambles as I came along.”

”Of course ye did,” agreed Patsy, with fine sarcasm, ”and for my wish--I was after thinking I'd marry the king's son.”

They looked at each other with the teasing, saucy stare of two children; then they laughed as care-free and as merrily.

”Maybe you'll get your wish,” he suggested, soberly.

”Maybe I will,” agreed Patsy, with mock solemnity.