came forth from the gate.

"I am going thy road," he informed Farr, "because all ways are alike to
me. I would be pleased to talk with one who has journeyed. Thee may have
good counsel for me. May I walk with thee?"

The wayfarer opened his mouth and closed it suddenly on a half-spoken
and indignant refusal of this honor. He pursed his lips and his thick
brows drew together in a frown. Then, as if in spite of himself, he
began to smile.

"I will be no burden to thee," pleaded the home-made knight. "I have had
my armor for a long time and have practised walking in it."

"But why the tin suit?" expostulated Farr.

"I will explain as we walk."

"Well, come along!" blurted the wayfarer. "Nothing more can happen to
me, anyway."

"So thee has found one of thy own kind to follow about in the world?"
inquired the father, tauntingly. "Feathers on the head and rattles in
the hand! Cockahoops and fiddle-de-lorums! Thee'll be back soon with thy
folly cured after I have bailed thee from the calaboose! Then thee'll
stick to thy forge and be sensible!"

Farr noted a small shop by the roadside as they started off.

"My father is a good man, but practical--wholly practical," said his new