"Do you observe the extreme beauty of that passage?" said Spikeman. "Yes," said Joey, "it is very beautiful." "You would more feel the power of it, my dear boy, if you were in love, but your time is not yet come; but I am afraid we must leave off now, for I expect letters of consequence by the post, and it is useless, I fear, waiting here. Come, put the book by, and let us take up the wheel of my sad fortunes." Spikeman and Joey rose on their feet. Joey went to the knife-grinder's wheel, and Spikeman followed him without looking back; he heard a rustling, nevertheless, among the bushes, which announced to him that his manoeuvres had succeeded; and, as soon as he was about fifty yards from the road, he took the wheel from Joey, desiring him to look back, as if accidentally. Joey did so, and saw Miss Mathews following them with her eyes. "That will do," observed Spikeman; "her curiosity is excited, and that is all I wish." What Spikeman said was correct. Araminta joined Miss Mathews shortly after Spikeman and Joey had gone away. "My dear Araminta," said Melissa, "such an adventure I can hardly credit my senses." "Why, what is the matter, dear cousin?" "Do you see that man and boy, with a knife-grinder's wheel, just in sight now?" "Yes, to be sure I do; but what of them? Have they been insolent?" "Insolent! they never saw me; they had no idea that I was here. I heard voices as I came down the walk, so I moved softly, and when I gained the seat, there was somebody reading poetry so beautifully; I never heard any one read with such correct emphasis and clear pronunciation. And then he stopped, and talked to the boy about the Greek and Latin poets, and quoted Shakespeare. There must be some mystery." "Well, but if there is, what has that to do with the travelling tinkers?" "What! why it was the travelling tinker himself; dearest; but he cannot be a tinker; for I heard him say that he expected letters of consequence, and no travelling tinker could do that." "Why, no; I doubt if most of them can read at all." "Now, I would give my little finger to know who that person is." "Did you see his face?" "No; he never turned this way; the boy did when they were some distance off. It's very strange." "What was he reading?" "I don't know; it was very beautiful. I wonder if he will ever come this way again? If he does--" "Well, Melissa, and if he does?" "My scissors want grinding very badly; they won't cut a bit." "Why, Melissa, you don't mean to fall in love with a tinker?" said Araminta, laughing. "He is no tinker, I'm sure; but why is he disguised? I should like to know." "Well, but I came out to tell you that your father wants you. Come along." The two young ladies then returned to the house, but the mystery of the morning was broached more than once, and canvassed in every possible way.