At table a discussion of the day’s services was considered proper and fit, the sermon being the chief topic of conversation. Joseph M’Clean was still a strict Presbyterian, and did not uphold the lapses from a serious deportment into which so many of the pioneers had fallen. He was bound that his own family should be “releegious and orderly on the Sabbath, no matter what his neighbors did,” and so the Sabbath evening was passed soberly in singing psalms, and in reading from the Bible, and in discussing at great length the chapters read. Archie quite warmed up to the debate, but David had little to say, putting in only a word now and then, his eyes between times upon Jeanie, who had treated him with a cold scorn all day. It was when the two girls went up to their loft room to prepare for bed that Jeanie had her say. She, too, had been very quiet, for Agnes had lured David over to her side upon the settle, and had ignored Archie entirely. “I think you treat Archie too badly,” said Jeanie, shaking down her dark locks of hair. “Oh, no, you mean I treat David too well,” returned Agnes, saucily. “What do I care how you treat David?” “You care a great deal; confess that you do, and I’ll not treat him so well.” “I’ll not confess.” “Very well, you shall be tortured till you do.” “You are a heartless girl, Nancy Kennedy.” “Indeed, then, I’m not; I am too soft hearted.” “Then why do you turn a cold shoulder to poor Archie?” “‘I’m ower young to marry,’ and Archie does try one with his talk of what he means to do when he is twenty-one.” “Just think what fine buckets and bowls he could make you, Nancy. There would be no one anywhere about who could make such a display as you.” “As if I’d trade my heart for a red and white bucket; I’m not an Indian squaw to be bought with trinkets.” “And Archie doesn’t think so. It was only I who said that. Archie is very modest.” “He’s well aware of his own good traits. He will make a good meenister, and I’m no one to hanker after being a meenister’s wife.” “You ought to feel honored if ever you are.” “Maybe, but I think, as I said before, I am ower young.” She put on an innocent, childlike expression, and gave a side glance at Jeanie. “David can make fine bowls, too, and he is to make me one, and, moreover, he is going to tan a famous bearskin for me.” She gave her information carelessly and laughed at the “Oh!” that it extracted from Jeanie. “You must learn from the Indians not to make a sound when you’re being tortured,” she said calmly. “I’ll tell you something else, and see if you can’t do better. David’s mare goes beautifully, and I am to try her some day. He will borrow another, and we are going to--to--” She peeped around at Jeanie who had averted her head and whose face was buried in her hands.