Polly listened attentively to the tale. “Ye’ll be havin’ a puir chanst av gettin’ it,” she said, “for the law, I’m thinkin’, ’ll give it to the son if so be there’s no will. Ye’d better put the notion out of yer head, Nancy. We’ll stand by one another, an’ if my Jimmy comes back, I’ll no object to goin’ annywhere he may be choosin’.” Agnes thought the chances of Jimmy’s coming back were no better than the chances of getting the Muirhead property, but she did not say so, though for all that Polly mourned the loss of her husband, she was outwardly the same fun-loving, jolly creature. She entered into the new scheme with much zest, and pushed it so vigorously that before six weeks were gone, Agnes found herself established in a comfortable little abode on the other side of the river from the Muirhead place, but not very far from the M’Cleans. Every one of the neighbors gave a willing hand to the log-rolling, the house-raising, and the getting of the two families settled. Fergus Kennedy, in his mild way, seemed to enjoy it all, though the dread of Indians seemed to overpower him now and then, and then he became pitifully dependent upon Polly and Agnes. He worked at whatever task they set him, and as Polly was a master hand at managing, the little clearing soon took on an inhabited look. The children tumbled about on the puncheon floor, the big chimney-place showed a cheerful fire over which pots of various sizes bubbled and steamed, Polly’s spinning-wheel whirred in the corner to Agnes’s busy tread, and the whole place in an incredibly short space of time gave the appearance of thrift and energy.