"I hope I shall!" said Helmsley earnestly. "And believe me I'm most grateful to you----" "Tut!" and Miss Tranter tossed her head. "What do you want to be grateful to me for! You've had food and lodging, and you've paid me for it. I've offered you work and you won't take it. That's the long and short of it between us." And thereupon she marched out of the room, her head very high, her shoulders very square, and her back very straight. Helmsley watched her dignified exit with a curious sense of half-amused contrition. "What odd creatures some women are!" he thought. "Here's this sharp-tongued, warm-hearted hostess of a roadside inn quite angry because, apparently, an old tramp won't stay and do incompetent work for her! She knows that I should make a mere boggle of her garden,--she is equally aware that I could be no use in any way on 'Feathery' Joltram's farm--and yet she is thoroughly annoyed and disappointed because I won't try to do what she is perfectly confident I can't do, in order that I shall rest well and be fed well for one or two days! Really the kindness of the poor to one another outvalues all the gifts of the rich to the charities they help to support. It is so much more than ordinary 'charity,' for it goes hand in hand with a touch of personal feeling. And that is what few rich men ever get,--except when their pretended 'friends' think they can make something for themselves out of their assumed 'friendship'!" He put on his hat, and plucked one of the roses clambering in at the window to take with him as a remembrance of the "Trusty Man,"--a place which he felt would henceforward be a kind of landmark for the rest of his life to save him from drowning in utter cynicism, because within its walls he had found unselfish compassion for his age and loneliness, and disinterested sympathy for his seeming need. Then he went to say good-bye to Miss Tranter. She was, as usual, in the bar, standing very erect. She had taken up her knitting, and her needles clicked and glittered busily. "Matt Peke left a bottle of his herb wine for you," she said. "There it is." She indicated by a jerk of her head a flat oblong quart flask, neatly corked and tied with string, which lay on the counter. It was of a conveniently portable shape, and Helmsley slipped it into one of his coat pockets with ease. "Shall you be seeing Peke soon again, Miss Tranter?" he asked. "I don't know. Maybe so, and maybe not. He's gone on to Crowcombe. I daresay he'll come back this way before the end of the month. He's a pretty regular customer." "Then, will you thank him for me, and say that I shall never forget his kindness?" "Never forget is a long time," said Miss Tranter. "Most folks forget their friends directly their backs are turned." "That's true," said Helmsley, gently; "but I shall not. Good-bye!" "Good-bye!" Miss Tranter paused in her knitting. "Which road are you going from here?" Helmsley thought a moment.