“There is no one quite like Archie.” Agnes was picking her peas without proper regard to the fulness of their pods, her blue-tipped fingers slipping in and out among the vines swiftly. Parker watched her for a few minutes, not attempting to help. When he spoke again, it was in a constrained tone. “Shall you care to come over with your mother and Polly to sup with me?” Agnes’s heart had leaped at the prospect, but she said indifferently: “Oh, yes, I’d enjoy going anywhere with mother. There, I think I have enough of these. I must take them in and shell them.” She picked up her rudely made basket, but Parker took it from her, as a matter of course. He was singularly silent, and the tears smarted in Agnes’s eyes. Why had she been so contrary? What had possessed her to mislead him? The beautiful bright summer day would be spoiled because of her unreasonableness. But she was too proud to alter the state of things by making advances, and they entered the house with no attempt on either side toward a better understanding, and neither one was in a very happy frame of mind. Polly had left her dye-kettle and was deep in the mystery of the pudding she had promised to make. Agnes called on the children to shell the peas, and gave her own attention to some other things. Mrs. Kennedy, meanwhile, was preparing a pair of fowls, and Parker left them in the midst of their dinner-getting and strolled down to the forge. Agnes saw him depart. Why had things gone wrong? They might now have been sitting together over the basket of peas in happy converse. They had often shared such a piece of work. It did not add to her comfort to be aware that it was all her own fault. The unusually sumptuous dinner meant nothing to her, and she scarcely touched it. “Nancy is saving up her appetite for this evening,” said Polly, laughing. “You’d better not be too sure of what you’ll get at a bachelor’s, Nancy.” Parker smiled. “I can’t promise you such a feast as this, Polly, though you know you are pledged to do the cooking. I can make good corn-pone and hoe-cake, and I can cook a fish or a bit of bacon, but I am not very skilful, I warn you.” “It seems like old times to see him settin’ there,” said Polly. “I declare, Park, I never knew how much I missed ye till I see ye back agen.” “That is certainly complimentary, and I appreciate it. I am being treated with the fat of the land. I am afraid from the spread you have here that you have robbed the family of a week’s provender; you know I am very well acquainted with the resources of the place.” “Ah but, ‘it’s nae loss what ye gie a freen’,’ as the old saying is, and ye need think nae more of it.” Polly was in high spirits. The prospect of any kind of frolic always put her in the best of humors.