It was a grave little company which sat around the big fireplace of the Kennedy farm-house one night in March. Outside the wind howled and blustered, and even though a huge log fire shot its flames in fine fashion up the wide chimney, there was necessity for sand-bags at the door, and for heavy homespun curtains at the windows to keep out the insistent draughts which would make their way through every chink and cranny. The younger children cuddled close together on the hearth, their mother from time to time looking up from her work to watch them thoughtfully; their father, silent and moody, gazed into the snapping fire, while Agnes herself, old enough to understand better than her brothers and sisters the cause of the unusual seriousness, paused more than once in her task of knitting to steal a glance at her parents. At last Mrs. Kennedy aroused herself. “Come, bairns,” she said, “it is long past bedtime. Off with you. I’ll hear your prayers and see you safely tucked in.” Accustomed to prompt obedience, the children arose, Sandy and Margret, Jock and Jessie. Agnes alone stayed behind at a nod from her mother. When the last little lagging foot had ceased to be heard upon the stair, the girl turned to her father and said, “I am going to sit up till you and mother go to bed, for this is the last night in a long time that we shall be together.” “Yes, in a long time,” he sighed; and then Agnes, contradicting her own statement, returned: “Oh, no, not a long time; in a very little while we shall be able to send for them. Won’t it be good, father, to see them all coming, Sandy and Margret and Jock and Jessie? You will go for them, and I will get a hot supper ready, and they will all be so surprised to see how fine a place a log-cabin can be. Think of it, this time next year we shall all be together again.” She stole her arm around her father’s neck and laid her cheek against his. “Aren’t you glad I am going?” she asked with a little laugh. “I am, my lass, though I misdoubt I am selfish in taking you from your mother.” “Sh! There she comes; we must look very cheerful. We were talking about what fun it will be when you and the children come,” she said brightly, as her mother entered. “Yes,” was the reply, “but there’s a weary time between.” “Oh, no, it will go very quickly, for there will be so much to do. First our going and then your getting off to Cousin Sarah’s, and all that.”