"Do you see that scar?" he heard Tilly saying.
"I do, sor."
"Well, a man shot me there."
"An' what for?" the tinker inquired.
"I was telling him a story. It cured me. Do you carry a gun?"
"I do not, sor."
"Wal, then, I'll tell you about the man I work for."
Tunk, who had been outside the door in his best clothes, but who,
since he put them on, had looked as if he doubted the integrity of
his suspenders and would not come in the house, began to laugh
loudly.
"That man Tunk can see the comedy in all but himself," was Trove's
thought, as he returned with a smile of amusement.
Soon Trove and Polly came out and stood a while by the lilac bush,
at the gate.
"You worry me, Sidney Trove," said she, looking off at the moonlit
fields.
Then came a silence full of secret things, like the silences of
their first meeting, there by the same gate, long ago. This one,
however, had a vibration that seemed to sting them.
"I am sorry," said he, with a sigh.
Another silence in which the heart of the girl was feeling for the
secret in his.
"You are so sad, so different," she whispered.
Polly waited full half a minute for his answer. Then she touched
her eyes with her handkerchief, turned impatiently, and went
halfway to the door.
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