Polly set down her children and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Faith, thin, I’m a lone woman. Jimmy’s been took be the Injuns, and whether I’ll see him agin or not, I’ll niver tell. The sittlemint’s broke up an’ ivery mother’s son av ’em has scattered, so I followed along an’ kem this way with others. I dunno will I iver see Jimmy agin, but I’m not beyant hopin’ I will. Annyway, he’ll know where to find me, for I left worrud.” “Why, if they are all gone, how could you leave word?” “I did thin. I got Johnny McCormick to write a bit on a board, an’ I planted it where the cabin was, an’ if Jimmy comes back, he’ll see it.” “Oh, poor Polly! I do hope he will come. But now come right in and see mother,” Jeanie urged. “How the baby has grown! It is good to see you all again.” That night the little cabin of the M’Clean’s was full to overflowing, but these pioneers considered it a part of their duty to give a helping hand to whomever might come along, and there was no limit to their simple hospitality. Yet it seemed to Agnes that now, when the resources of the family were taxed to their utmost, she must seek another home, and she tried to consult her father upon the subject. But he would only mildly acquiesce to anything that she proposed, and therefore to Polly Agnes took her trouble. “Father is able to work,” she told her, “but he seems to have no will, and would as lief do one thing as another. Oh, Polly, what shall I do? If my mother were here, we could take up land and build a little house; the neighbors would help, and soon Sandy would be big enough to take charge of things with our planning, and we could all be so comfortable. But they will not let me go off with him alone.” “Why not jine foorces with Polly O’Neill if ye can stand the children’s clatter? I’m no for biding with Joe M’Clean longer than I kin gather me wits.” “Oh, Polly, that would be a fine thing. We could go together, and I could furnish a man’s work if not his judgment. Oh, Polly, you have thought of the right thing!” “Ye see, I’m much in your fix, Nancy, and I’ve been wonderin’ what would I do, an’ ye see it’ll be doin’ a turn for ye all at the same time I’m betterin’ mesel’. Now, I’ll tell ye what’s to be done: ye’ll get yer father to take up a bit of land; ye’ll have to go with him to see that he does it all straight an’ true, an’ we’ll build a bit of a cabin and live as commojus as a litter o’ pigs.” Agnes laughed. “I’d like to live a little better than that.” “Sure, then, I’m not sayin’ we’ll not live cleaner.” “And when we get our share of the Muirhead place, you can keep the cabin. Oh, I must tell you all about the Muirheads.”