"We are two--down on our luck, and strangers hereabouts. Have ye got any tinkering jobs for my man there? He's a bit odd and says little; but he can solder a broken pot or mend a machine with the best. And we'll take out our pay in a good, hearty meal." "There be a pile of dishes in the pantry I've put by till we was goin' to town--handles off and holes in the bottom. He can mend them out on the stoop, if he likes. I've got to help with berry-pickin'; we're short-handed this season." "Are ye, just? Then I'm thinking I'll come in handy." Patsy smiled her smile of winning comradeship as she stooped and picked up a tray of empty berry-boxes that stood by the door; while the woman's smile deepened with honest appreciation. "My! but you are willing folks; they're sometimes scarce 'round here." "Faith, we're hungry folks--so ye best set us quickly to work." They left the tinker on the stoop, surrounded by a heterogeneous collection of household goods. Patsy cast an anxious backward glance at him, but saw that he was rolling up the rags that served for sleeves, thereby baring a pair of brawny, capable-looking arms, while he spread his tools before him after the manner of a man who knows his business. "Fine!" commented Patsy, with an inner satisfaction. "He may be foolish, but I bet he can tinker." They picked berries for an hour or more, and then Patsy turned too and helped the woman get dinner. They bustled about in silence to the accompanying pounding and scraping of the tinker, who worked unceasingly. When they sat down to dinner at last there was a tableful--the woman and her husband, Patsy, the tinker, and the "hands," and before them was spread the very best the farm could give. It was as if the woman wished to pay their free-will gift of service with her unstinted bounty. "We always ask a blessin'," said the farmer, simply, folding his hands on the table, about to begin. Then he looked at Patsy, and, with that natural courtesy that is common to the true man of the soil, he added, "We'd be pleased if you'd ask it." Patsy bowed her head. A little whimsical smile crept to her lips, but her voice rang deep with feeling: "For food and fellowship, good Lord, we thank Thee. Amen!" And she added under her breath, "And take a good grip of the Rich Man's son till we get him." * * * * * The late afternoon found them back on the road once more. They parted from the farmer and his wife as friend parts with friend. The woman slipped a bundle of food--bread, cheese, and meat left from the dinner, with a box of berries--into Patsy's hand, while the man gave the tinker a half-dollar and wished him luck.