"Then," said the Poor Boy, "what are you doing alone in the woods?"
"Came to find you," said Tinker. "Couldn't get married without you."
"Turn around," cried the Poor Boy. "I'm with you."
He knelt swiftly and took off his skis.
He started to slide an affectionate arm round the older man's shoulders, but jerked it back before it was too late.
"No," he muttered, "you mustn't try to touch them or they vanish."
"What's that?"
"Just that this is the best thing that ever happened. You're just made for each other, you two."
They sped on through the pine forest, talking of village matters, of school matters, and hitching-posts, of politics, of sewers—but mostly of love.
It was dark when the Poor Boy got back to his own house. But he was very happy and (in spite of many hot crisp cookies at Mrs. Brown's kitchen door) very hungry.