"What circumstances, young sir?" demanded the Tinker, his features distorted by a sudden fierce scowl. "Ha, d'ye mean as you've taken advantage of--" "Don't be foolish, Jerry!" said Diana serenely. "Does he look as if he would take advantage of any one? d'ye think he could take advantage o' me? Can't you see he ain't--is not th' kind I keeps my little knife for? Don't be foolish, Jerry; he's never even tried to kiss me--nor wanted to--" "How do you know that?" I demanded impulsively. Now at this she turned and looked at me, red lips parted in speechless surprise. "How do you know?" I repeated. "How can you be so sure?" "Be-cause!" she murmured and then, all at once, from throat to brow crept a wave of hot colour, her long lashes drooped and she turned away with a strange, new shyness; and in this moment I saw she was altogether more lovely than I had ever imagined her. "Why, Diana!" I said. "Child, you need never trouble to take your knife to me; the respect I have for your goodness is enough--" "Ah, Peregrine," she whispered fiercely, without turning her head, "I am only good because I have seen enough of evil to hate it!" "And it is just because I would shield you from all and every evil that I would marry you, Diana." "Ha!" exclaimed the Tinker, so suddenly that I started, having clean forgotten his existence. "Ha!" said he. "You're quite sure as you don't love each other, then?" "Quite!" said Diana. "Absolutely!" said I. "Oh!" said the Tinker, wiping his knife upon his breeches. "Well, considering you was both so hungry, you ain't neither of you eaten dooly of this stoo as was fit for any king. And talkin' o' wed-lock, if you ain't in love with each other--yet, I should wait until you are, which," said he, glancing up at the leaves above his head, "which judging by the look o' things, I should say might 'appen at any moment 'twixt now and Christmas. Meantime, what are ye going' to do?" At this, being somewhat at a loss, I looked at Diana and she at the fire again. "Now if," pursued the Tinker, "if you'm minded, both on ye, for to j'ine comp'ny and travel the country awhile along o' Diogenes an' me--say the word, an' I'll be the j'y-fullest tinker 'twixt here an' John o' Groat's!" As he ended, Diana reached out suddenly and, catching his hand, fondled those work-roughened fingers against her soft cheek. "O Jerry," she sighed, "you were always s' good and wise!" "Then, dear lass, you'll come?" "Of course I will. I'll weave baskets--" "And I'll mend kettles, if you'll teach me, friend Jerry," said I, grasping his other hand. "Why, children!" said he, looking upon us gentle-eyed, "Lord love ye now--you make me as proud as if I was a dook 'stead of only a travelling tinker!" "It were best of all to be a poet, I think!" said I. "Have you written any more verses lately?"