Part 24 (2/2)
”Faith! that would depend on the tinker.”
”Oh-ho, so it's up to the tinker, is it? Well, the tinker will prove it otherwise; he will guarantee to keep the play running pure comedy to the end. So that settles it, Miss Patricia O'Connell--alias Rosalind, alias the cook--alias Patsy--the best little comrade a lonely man ever found. I am going to marry you the day after to-morrow, right here in Arden.”
Patsy looked at him long and thoughtfully from under the beguiling shadow of the white chiffon, corn-flower sunbonnet. ”'Tis a shame, just, to discourage anything so brave as a self-made--tinker. But I'll not be here the day after to-morrow. And what's more, a man is a fool to marry any woman because he's lonely and she can cook.”
The tinker's eyes twinkled. ”I don't know. A man might marry for worse reasons.” Then he grew suddenly sober and his eyes looked deep into hers. ”But you know and I know that that is not my reason for wanting you, or yours for taking me.”
”I didn't say I would take ye.” This time it was Patsy's eyes that twinkled. ”Do ye think it would be so easy to give up my career--the big success I've hoped and worked and waited for--just--just for a tinker? I'd be a fool to think of it.” She was smiling inwardly at her own power of speech, which made what she held as naught sound of such immeasurable consequence.
But the tinker smiled outwardly. ”Where did you say you were going to be the day after to-morrow?”
”That's another thing I did not say. If ye are going to marry me 'tis your business to find me.” She freed her hands and started off without a backward glance at him.
”Patsy, Patsy!” he called after her, ”wouldn't you like to know the name of the man you're going to marry?”
She turned and faced him. Framed in the soft, green fringe of the trees, she seemed to him the very embodiment of young summer--the free, untrammeled spirit of Arden. Ever since the first he had been growing more and more conscious of what she was: a nature vital, beautiful, tender, untouched by the searing things of life--trusting and worthy of trust; but it was not until this moment that he realized the future promise of her. And the realization swept all his smoldering love aflame into his eyes and lips. His arms went out to her in a sudden, pa.s.sionate appeal.
”Patsy--Patsy! Would the name make any difference?”
”Why should it?” she cried, with saucy coquetry. ”I'm marrying the man and not his name. If I can stand the one, I can put up with the other, I'm thinking. Anyhow, 'twill be on the marriage license the day after to-morrow, and that's time enough.”
”Do you really mean you would marry a man, not knowing his name or anything about his family--or his income--or--”
”That's the civilized way, isn't it?--to find out about those things first; and afterward it's time enough when you're married to get acquainted with your 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--G.o.d 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 att.i.tude 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 given the man.
One last piece of news concerning Billy Burgeman came to Patsy before she left Arden that afternoon. Gregory Jessup was at the station to see her off, and he took her aside for the few minutes before the train arrived.
”I tried to get Billy to join me--knew it would do him good to meet you; but he wouldn't budge. I rather think he's still a trifle sore on girls. Nothing personal, you understand?”
Patsy certainly did--far better than his friend knew. In her heart she was trying her best to be interested and grateful to the Rich Man's Son for his unconscious part in her happiness. Had it not been for him there would have been no quest, no road; and without the road there would have been no tinker; and without the tinker, no happiness. It was none the less hard to be interested, however, now that her mind had given over the lonely occupation of contemplating memories for that most magical of all mental crafts--future-building.
She jerked up her attention sharply as Gregory Jessup began speaking again.
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