Gregory nodded an affirmative while he considered Patsy with grave perplexity. Patsy saw it, and smiled reassuringly. "'Tis all right. I've always had a great interest entirely to know the geography of every new country--and I haven't the wits to discover it for myself. Now where would ye put the cross-roads and the Catholic church? And where would Lebanon be? Aye--Did ye ever see an old tabby chasing her tail? Faith! 'tis a very intelligent spectacle, I'm thinking. Now where might ye put the cross-roads where ye picked me up with the Dempsy Carters?... And Dansville?... and the railroad bridge? ... and the golf links, back yonder?" She stood for many minutes, studying the rough chart in the dust at her feet. The connecting lines of roads between the places named made fully a hundred and twenty degrees of a circle about the cross marking Arden. And as chance would have it, every one of the encircling towns measured approximately seven miles from the central cross. Patsy smiled, and the smile grew to a chuckle--and the chuckle to a long, rippling laugh. Patsy was forced to hold her sides with the ache of it. "I know ye think I'm crazy--but 'tis the rarest bit of humor this side of Ireland. Willie Shakespeare himself would steal it if he could to put in one of his comedies. There is just one thing I'd like to be knowing--how much of it was chance, and how much was the tricks of a tinker?" "I don't think I understand," mumbled Gregory Jessup. "Of course ye don't," agreed Patsy. "I don't, myself. But there's one thing more I'll be telling ye--if ye'll swear never to let it pass your lips?" Patsy paused for dramatic effect while Gregory Jessup bound himself twice over to secrecy. "Well," she said, at length, "'tis this: If I had the road to travel again I'd pray to Saint Brendan to keep my feet fast to the wrong turn. That's what!" Patsy left him, still looking after her in a puzzled fashion; and with quickening steps she passed out of sight. But once again did she stop; and again it was by a graveled driveway. She was deep in green memories when a figure in nurse's uniform coming down the drive caught her attention. She was immediately reminded of two facts: that the Burgeman estate was in Arden, and that Burgeman senior was dying. Impulsively she turned toward the nurse. "Is Mr. Burgeman any better this morning?" "We hardly expect that." The nurse's tone was cordial but professionally cautious. "I know"--Patsy nodded wisely, as if she had been following the case professionally herself--"but there is often a last rallying of strength. Isn't there?" "Sometimes. I hardly think there will be anything very lasting in Mr. Burgeman's case. There are moments, now, when his strength and will are remarkably vigorous--any other man would be in his bed." "Oh! Then he is--up?"