Agnes gathered the little one close to her. “Good-by, and God bless you, dear little lad. I hope you will grow up to be a good man, Honey. You will forget all about your Nanny, but she will never forget you. Come, Carter.” She made no further appeal to the man standing there, and but once looked back after she and Carter turned to go. She saw that he had gathered the child into his arms and his head was bent upon that of his little son. A real compassion for him filled Agnes’s heart. “I can’t help feeling sorry,” she murmured. “Sorry for that brute? I’d like to have called the coward out,” cried Carter. “The idea of his daring to address a lady in such fashion. If you had not restrained me, Agnes--” “You would have fought him then and there. Yes, I know, and have given your mother cause to mourn the loss of a son more chivalrous than discreet. I thank you for your knightly intention, Sir Carter, but I think, in this instance, discretion was the better part of valor, don’t you?” “Agnes, if any one were to present you to my mother, and tell her that you were a backwoods girl, she would scarce believe it.” “She would not, and why?” “Not because there are not some here worthy of being called gentle, but it isn’t the usual type; you are more like my own people, like gentlefolk.” “And are there, then, no gentlefolk among the Scotch-Irish?” “Many, no doubt, but they lose their manners when they are let loose in the wilderness. I do not know what they have been at home, but they certainly are a rough lot out here.” “Not all, I hope.” “Surely not all, for look at your mother; but on the other hand, look at Polly O’Neill, and Tibby McKnight, and Mydie McShane.” “Oh, if you take them for examples, it may be true that there is an excuse for you to criticise, yet we’re all one out here, and you’ll be counted in with Humphrey Muirhead and Jimmy O’Neill yourself one of these days,” she told him, teasingly. She was happy now that she had succeeded in her errand, and could afford to joke. CHAPTER XIX DR. FLINT It was a few days later that Dr. Flint appeared again. In the meantime Agnes had been aware of a midnight expedition, in which Jimmy O’Neill had taken part, and from which he had returned the next morning in as bad a humor as Jimmy could be in. Agnes heard his answer to a whisper from Polly, “Cleared out,” he said, and the girl knew to whom he referred. After breakfast, Dr. Flint came riding up. He and Jimmy had a conference down at the blacksmith shop, and after leaving his horse there the doctor made his way up to the house where Agnes met him. “Well, Miss Agnes, I think you’ll be moving across the river before long,” was the doctor’s greeting.