“He’ll get better after a while,” Agnes always said cheerfully, “but I think he’ll get well quicker if we go somewhere else. He seems to dread going to the woods, and trembles if you mention the Indians. I don’t understand it, for he was always so brave.” “One can’t account for the strange ways of a body hurt,” said Mrs. M’Clean. “Maybe it would be best that you take him back home.” “We haven’t any home,” Agnes replied sorrowfully. “You know father had to give up the farm; it was sold after grandfather died, and father had only his share of what it brought. Mother is with her cousin till we make a home out here for her. You know we started to go to a place already cleared and with a good house on it. I wonder if it is very far. It is near the Putnam Colony.” “That is where we are thinking of travelling.” “Then--” “You could go with us? Indeed and you could. We are going to start before the river is frozen over, and while there is not like to be any danger from the Indians.” Agnes nodded. The plan suited her very well, and she felt that it was happening very fortunately for her. So in a few days Polly O’Neill, the Fergusons, the McCormicks, and the rest of their friends watched Joseph M’Clean’s broadhorn as it started down the river, and there was a great waving of good-bys from the shore. It was not a very merry parting, nevertheless, for it was very uncertain if these who remained would ever again meet those who went. “It’s sorry I am to leave Polly O’Neill,” said Jeanie. “She’ll be following us if the Indians trouble them again,” Agnes returned. “She likes to be on the move, does Polly, and doesn’t mind lugging about her babies with her wherever she goes. She’ll roll the little baby up in a bearskin, and leave the next older, sucking his thumb, to watch the baby while Polly herself goes off to dance an Irish jig. Oh, but she’s a funny Polly.” “She is that, and I am loath to leave her.” “But I was so pleased when father said you were coming with us,” said Jeanie, “and some one else was pleased, too.” “Who? Your mother?” “No, Miss Innocence; it was Archie. I shall like you for a sister, Nancy. Doesn’t Archie grow to be a tall fine lad? Eighteen, and six feet tall. He’ll not be long finding you a home.” “That’s nonsense,” Agnes replied sharply. “I’ve no time to think of such things. I’ve my father to think of this long while yet, and when my mother comes, I’ll not want to leave her for a good bit.” “Ah, but there’s no harm in talking of it. Archie has his eye for you and no one else.” “But we are going to another place, and there may be a dozen girls he would like better, so we’ll not be talking of it yet, but of some possible lad for you, Jeanie. I’ll describe him to you. He’s no so tall, for you are of a good height, and of course will not marry a tall man.” “Ah, but I will.”