Patsy frowned. “All ye needed was something soft to dull your wits on; what he’s needing is a father—and mother—and sweetheart—and some good 1915 bonds of human trust.”
The tinker folded his arms over the newel-post and smiled. “And do you expect to be able to supply them all?”
“God forbid!” Patsy laughed in spite of herself.
And the tinker, scoring a point, took courage and went on: “Don’t you suppose I realize that you have given me the finest gift a stranger can have—the gift of honest, unconditional friendship, asking no questions, demanding no returns? It is a rare gift for any man—and I want to keep it as rare and beautiful as when it was given. So please don’t mar it for me—now. Please—!” His hands went out in earnest appeal.
The anger was leaving Patsy’s face; already the look of comradeship was coming back in her eyes; her lips were beginning to curve in the old, whimsical smile. And the tinker, seeing, doubled his courage. “Now, won’t you please forgive me and come down and get some supper?”
She hesitated and, seeing that her decision was hanging in the balance, he recklessly tried his hand at tipping the scales in his favor. “I’m no end of a good forager, and I’ve rooted out lots of things in tins and jars. You must be awfully hungry; remember, it’s hours since our magical breakfast with the lady’s-slippers.”
Patsy’s fist banged the railing with a startling thud. “I’ll never break fast with ye again—never—never—never! Ye’ve blighted the greenest memory I ever had!” And with that she was gone, slamming the door after her by way of dramatic emphasis.
It was a forlorn and dejected tinker that returned alone to the empty hearthside. The bright cheer of the fire had gone; the room had become a place of shadows and haunting memories. For a long time he stood, brutally kicking one of the fire-dogs and snapping his fingers at his feelings; and then, being a man and requiring food, he went out into the pantry where he had been busily preparing to set forth the hospitality of the house when Patsy had wakened.
But before he ate he found a tray and covered it with the best the pantry afforded. He mounted the stairs with it in rather a lagging fashion, being wholly at sea concerning the temperature of his reception. His conscience finally compromised with his courage, and he put the tray down outside Patsy’s door.