“So will I,” replied the girl. “I shall have to stay here awhile, I suppose, but to-morrow I will go back to my father and my friends, and if there is any justice in the land, I will have it.” “I’m a right pleasant neighbor at times, I am told,” returned Humphrey Muirhead, sarcastically. “You’ll enjoy having an uncle near at hand. Uncles can be pretty worrisome, you’ll find out before you get through.” Agnes made no reply, but thoughts of the tales she had heard of wicked uncles flashed into her mind. She remembered the Babes in the Woods and the little princes in the Tower. It was plain that she had gained nothing by defiance, and she half wished that she had been more conciliatory. After all, it was hard that her grandfather’s own son must be her enemy. She looked up half wistfully, but Humphrey Muirhead bent a hard, steely glance upon her. “I mean fight,” he said. Agnes drew herself up haughtily, regretting her softer feeling. “Then we will not talk about it,” she made answer. “I shall have to wait here till I am sent for, but I can wait outside.” Humphrey Muirhead stepped to the door and called his wife. “Here, Judy,” he said, “this is my niece. You never knew I had one, did ye? Well, I have, and we’re terrible fond of each other since we discovered we are related. She’s going to stay here till some one comes for her. You kin give her something to eat.” And he left the room. Agnes stood looking helplessly at the woman before her, a meek, broken-spirited creature. “I am sorry I have to stay,” Agnes began. “I didn’t understand when I came. I will not trouble you but a little while.” “Oh, ’tain’t no trouble,” Mrs. Muirhead replied. “I’m real glad to see you. We never had none o’ his folks to see us before. He never would talk about them. I guess you favor the Muirheads, for you ain’t much like him, an’ they say he’s his mother over again. Won’t you come and set in the other room by the fire?” Agnes acquiesced silently, and for the next hour she gave herself to the task of entertaining the poor little woman, who did her best to make her guest comfortable, and who evidently was greatly pleased at receiving a visit from so interesting a person. The children were too shy to be in the way, and Agnes felt too perturbed to do more than try to keep up her conversation with her hostess. Humphrey Muirhead did not again make his appearance, a consideration which Agnes had not expected would be shown her. “He’s in one of his tempers,” Mrs. Muirhead told her. “I’m glad enough when he keeps away at such times. Some one from the Hunters’ will come over for you, did you say? I can’t see, even if he is mad, why he didn’t make you stay here with us. I don’t see many women folks,” she added wistfully. Agnes shook her head. “There will be no more visiting, Mrs. Muirhead. I made a mistake in coming at all.”