"Of course! He learned me to whistle for him so when I was a little child and--" She turned suddenly, and with a little, glad cry of "O Jerry!" ran forward into the shadows and was clasped and hugged in a pair of dim arms. "Why, Ann--why, Anna, dear child--have ye come a-seeking your old Jeremy? What is it this time, dear lass; tell your trouble to your old pal--" "O Jerry, I'm free, I'm free of 'em at last!" "Free o' the Folk, lass? Lord, here's j'y! But what of old Azor--that witch o' darkness?" "Her too, Jerry." "How, lass, how so?" Here Diana reached her hand to me and I stepped into the Tinker's purview. "He did it for me, Jerry." "Lord!" exclaimed the Tinker, falling back a step. "Lord love me--a boy! A lad at last! Well, well, 't is nat'ral, I suppose, though what I can see of him bean't much to look at, Ann--but no more am I, for that matter! And he ain't exactly a Goliath of Gath--though no more am I again. But then I've noticed that great men be generally of a comfortable, middling size. And if he be your _chal_, my dear--" "Have you forgotten me so soon, Mr. Jarvis?" said I at this juncture, whereupon he turned to peer into my face, then caught and wrung my hand. "Strike me blue!" he exclaimed. "It's the bang-up young gent in the jerry 'at 'as left a home luxoorious to see the world and l'arn to be a man!" "That very same!" said I. "Why, then, Lord love me, here's j'y again!" cried he, grasping my hand with a heartiness there was no mistaking. "But how come you hereabouts and along of Anna, too? And how comes Anna free o' the Folk at last and along wi' a young _gorgio_ gent wi' nothing flash about him? And what's come o' your bang-up duds? And I'd like to know--but wait a bit! Are ye hungry?" "We are!" answered Diana. "Good!" exclaimed the Tinker. "Then come your ways to my fire, children; I've a couple o' rabbits in the pot wi' a lump o' pork and an onion or so for comp'ny, which is a supper fit for any king." "You are very kind, Mr. Jarvis," said I, a little awkwardly, "but I ought to tell you that I am as poor as I look--I haven't one penny--" "Well, that don't make me speechless wi' surprise, young sir; money has a habit o' going, 'specially when you're young, but a full stomach's better than a full purse, I think." "But," said I, "having no money, how may I repay your hospitality?" "By eating hearty! And as for money, Lord love my eyes and limbs--who wants your money?" "There, there, Jerry--don't get peppery!" said Diana soothingly. "Peregrine don't understand the likes of us, yet." "Why no, Ann, I was forgetting the poor, misfort'nate young gent has never known the blessings of hardship, never suffered, never lacked for anything all his days and consequently knows nothing o' true hospitality or the brotherhood o' the roadside--how should he?" "Then you shall teach me, if you will, Mr. Jarvis," said I, humbly.