“I am glad to hear that; it promises well.” He suddenly stopped speaking, and Mrs. Kennedy saw that he had caught sight of Agnes, who had just reappeared with a bevy of girls. She noticed that Agnes met his glance and that a soft flush flew to the girl’s cheek. “One wedding often follows another. Example is a great thing,” said a voice at her side. “I suppose, Mrs. Kennedy, that your little lass will soon be leaving you.” “Scarcely yet,” replied the mother. “I hope I shall keep her by me for many a day, Mrs. Scott.” “It’s Archie M’Clean, they say,” ventured Mrs. Scott, “though for my part, I think it will be some one else.” She gave a comprehensive nod toward the young man standing near Mrs. Kennedy. “Marriage is not in the mind of my lassie,” Mrs. Kennedy returned with some dignity. “She has been away from her mother for so long that she is content to bide at home with her now.” Agnes now rejoined her mother who shared her stool with her. Seats were scarce, and many of the lads thought it no discourtesy to offer their laps for the convenience of the lassies, and the offer was taken in good part and generally accepted. Agnes preferred to share her mother’s three-legged stool, and sat there contentedly. “Are you dull, dear mother?” she whispered. “No, I am vastly entertained. This exhibit of backwoods manners amuses me greatly; it is quite beyond my comprehension, yet they are all good people. I thought we at home were far removed from city ways, but this is surprising.” She found herself turning to Parker Willett. “It is strange what a press of necessity will bring about, and how soon one becomes used to things which at first seem shocking. I doubt not another generation will forget gentle ways entirely.” “Another and some succeeding ones, but as the population increases more gentleness will leaven society out here. Ceremonies come to be useless things where one must battle with the conditions which exist in a new settlement; there is not time for them. Yet when one considers that we are not the real pioneers and what risks were run by those first intrepid leaders, and what privations they endured, ours of fifty years later seems a great gain. We have escaped those bloody wars that the advance-guard fought for us, and feel that we have been outdone in courage by those who first dared to cross the mountains to open up this Western Range.” “My father was one of them,” said Mrs. Kennedy, sadly. “Yes, and we should be proud of him. You should hold up your head at being the daughter of so brave a pioneer. Putnam’s colony--those sturdy New Englanders--seems to be doing well; they put a deal of energy into what they do, and are developing the country wonderfully; the Muskingum colony thrives and we shall soon be no longer in a wilderness, Mrs. Kennedy.” “You say that for encouragement.”