“Yes, I must. I promised mother I’d not stay late, for she does not like me to go through the woods alone, and I thought I would stop at Patty Scott’s to see how the baby is. I heard she had been ill.” “When Archie comes, you will not have to go through the woods alone. Ah, Nancy, there are good times in store for us. We four will have many a time together. I shall yet have you for my sister.” Agnes turned to take her path toward Patty Scott’s, but there was no responsive echo in her heart to Jeanie’s anticipations. Archie’s coming would but complicate matters for her, and she felt a heart-sinking at thought of it. He would be taking up her spare moments and expecting attention from her. She must see Parker soon, and tell him of Archie’s coming, and if he would but give her the chance, she would assure him that no minister’s wife did she intend to be. “But,” she sighed, “he takes so much for granted, and does not seem to know that I was but flouting him that day.” She pressed her hands together and looked eagerly toward the hilltop as she approached it, but no one was there waiting for her. It seemed as if she went down into the shadow of a great disappointment as she descended the hill. But there was her mother coming to meet her--her dear mother. The girl’s heart outran her footsteps. “How kind of you to come to meet me, mother,” she said as she came up. “I like to have you do that.” “Always?” returned her mother, smiling. Agnes smiled consciously, then her face looked grave. “Sit down for a moment under this tree,” said her mother. “I have something to tell you. Mr. Willett has been here. Did you meet him? He said he would try to find you.” “No, I did not see him. I went around by Patty Scott’s to see how her baby was.” “Then that is why he missed you. I am sorry. He left a little note for you in case he should not see you. Wait, my lamb,” for Agnes had turned and was holding out her hand eagerly. “He came to make his farewells; he is on his way to Marietta. He is called home by the illness of his mother.” Agnes turned deathly pale, and whispered, “The note, the note, mother.” Mrs. Kennedy took it from the bosom of her gown, and handed it to the girl who received it with shaking fingers. Her mother arose from the fallen log on which they were sitting and moved away for a short distance, while Agnes read:-- “I am sorry to miss you, little girl, but perhaps, after all, it is best. May you be happy in the love of that good youth, Archie. I am leaving some books which I hope you will enjoy reading. Good-by, and God bless you. “Your friend, “PARKER WILLETT.”