* * * * * Early the next morning Patsy waited on the braided rug outside the spare chamber for Joseph's mother to come out. "I've been praying ye'd not hate me for the tale I told the little lad that day, the tale that brought him--yonder. And if it isn't overlate, I'd like to be thanking ye for taking me in that night." The woman looked at her searchingly through swollen lids. "I cal'ate there's no thanks due; your man paid for your keep; he sawed and split nigh a cord o' wood that night--must ha' taken him 'most till mornin'." She paused an instant. "Didn't--he"--she nodded her head toward the closed door behind her--"never tell you what brought him?" "Naught but that he wanted to find me." "He believed in you," the woman said, simply, adding in a toneless voice: "I cal'ate I couldn't hate you. I never saw any one make death so--sweet like--as you done for--him." Patsy spread her hands deprecatingly. "Why shouldn't it be sweet like? Faith! is it anything but a bit of the very road we've been traveling since we were born, the bit that lies over the hill and out of sight?" She took the woman's work-worn hands in hers. "'Tis terrible, losing a little lad; but 'tis more terrible never having one. God and Mary be with ye!" When Patsy left the house a few minutes later Joseph's pilgrim staff was in her hands, and she stopped on the threshold an instant to ask the way of Joseph's father. The good man was dazed with his grief and he directed Patsy in terms of his own home-going: "Keep on, and take the first turn to your right." So Patsy kept on instead of returning to the cross-roads; and chance scored another point in his comedy and continued chuckling. * * * * * Meanwhile Joseph's father went back to the spare chamber. "'S she gone?" inquired Joseph's mother. "Yep." "You know, the boy believed in her." "Yep, I know." "Well, I cal'ate we've got to, too." "Sure thing!" "Ye'll never say a word, then--about seein' her; nuthin' to give the sheriff a hint where she might be?" "Why, mother!" The man laid a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her with accusing eyes. "Hain't you known me long enough to know I couldn't tell on any one who'd been good to--" He broke off with a cough. "And what's more, do you think any one who could take our little boy's hand and lead him, as you might say, straight to heaven--would be a thief? No, siree!" * * * * *