The young man smiled gravely. To his twenty-five years Agnes seemed still a little child, and he agreed with her father that the girl needed her mother. “Polly O’Neill, good, clever, kind-hearted though she might be, was no guardian for a young lass,” he said to himself. “The girl has been well brought up, but she will forget all her gentle ways in Polly’s company. I wish it could be managed to alter conditions for her. I’ve no right to interfere, but if she were my sister--” He struck his spade sharply into the earth, and then stood erect looking after Agnes as she disappeared into the cabin with Jeanie. At the other end of the truck patch he caught sight of Fergus Kennedy, his face wearing its usual mild, dazed expression. Parker had a genuine affection for his coworker, and he watched him now with a look of pity and concern. “Dear old fellow,” he murmured under his breath, “for your sake if not for the girl’s own I will do my best.” And from that time he took a greater interest in Agnes, in spite of the fact that she played many tricks upon him, and more than once angered him beyond endurance. Then he discussed the situation with Polly. “That little girl is getting to be as wild as a hawk,” he ventured to say. “Do you think her mother would like to see her so?” Polly gave her head a toss. “Why shouldn’t she be wild? It suits the country. She’ll not be like to wear silks and satins and be mincing about on high heels. She’ll be like to marry a settler lad--Archie M’Clean, no doubt.” “But Archie is not so rough; he is quite serious and gentle.” “All the more he’ll like the bright ways of the lassie. She’s young yet, Mr. Willett, an’ young things must have their fling. Leave her alone for a while, and she’ll sober down like the rest of us.” She gave a little chirrup of a laugh and glanced at the young man, who laughed in return. “You have sobered down so entirely, Polly,” he said. “Ye didn’t know me when I was a bit of a lass,” replied Polly, with a sly look. “That is true; you must have been--” He shook his head, and Polly laughed again. Society upon the frontier was decidedly mixed, and to Polly one was as good as another. She rather admired the handsome, courtly young Virginian, but she gave quite as much favor to rough, awkward Jerry Hunter, and, indeed, preferred his boisterous laugh and clumsy jokes to the more quiet conversation of Parker Willett.