"Where?" questioned Diana.
"Listen and you'll hear him, Ann!" Sure enough from the boskages adjacent came the ring and tap of a hammer to the accompaniment of a rich, sweet voice unpraised in song.
Hereupon, setting two slim, white fingers to her mouth, Diana whistled loud and shrilly, to the Tinker's no small delight. Ensued a prodigious rustling and snapping of twigs and into the lane sprang the slender, shapely figure of Jessamy himself, as bright of eye, as light and quick of foot as ever.
I will not dilate upon this second meeting, but it was good to feel the hearty grip of his fingers, to hear the glad welcome in his voice, to see how gallantly he stooped to kiss Diana's hand, and how his sun-tanned cheek flushed beneath the touch of her lips.
"Why, Anna!" he exclaimed. "Well, well—you ha' become so—so—you look so uncommon—what I mean is—"
"Beautiful!" said the Tinker. "Be-autiful's the word, Jess!"
"Aye, aye, shipmate, so it is, comrade!"
"And the next word is strike camp, Jessamy, up stick an' away, Jess—"
"We're going to the old place, Jessamy!" nodded Diana.
"Where you instructed me in the 'noble art,' Jessamy!" said I.