Agnes kissed him. “Come,” she said, “we’ll go find daddy.” Honey nodded. The plan suited him exactly. He had accepted his new surroundings with equanimity after the first day when he had called for mammy and daddy, but now he had Nanny and Daddy Kennedy, he seemed quite content. It was a weary day for Agnes; she longed for yet dreaded the return of Parker, for she persuaded herself that it was as Polly had suggested, and that he had left his heart down there in Virginia, and she was to him but a little girl who had won his sympathy. “Yet, why? Why?” she said more than once, as she remembered that last evening. “‘A man must make his own home,’ he said. We have kept him from doing that, and now, now he will go away and he should have done so before. Why didn’t he go? Why didn’t he?” she asked passionately. “What was it he said about some tie at home? some things that in honor he could not forget? I did not think then what he meant, but I know now. He said he was older, so much older; I am only a little girl to him.” She did not run down to watch for his coming as she had at first intended to do, but toward night her ears were alert for the slightest sound, so that Polly chaffed her for her nervousness. “You’ve skeert her with your tales of Injuns,” she said to Jimmy; “she’ll be lookin’ for them at ivery turn now. Law, Nancy, you all but skeered me! What is it?” For at the sound of approaching hoof beats Agnes had started to her feet. “Nothing, at least I thought I heard something,” she stammered. “Well, you are skeery to-night. That’s nothin’ but Park Willett comin’ back. You’ve heard his horse’s hoofs often enough not to jump out of your skin when he’s comin’. Come, set him a place at the table; he’ll be hungry. I hardly thought he’d be back to-night.” Agnes was only too ready for an occupation which would take attention from herself, and she disappeared into the lean-to just as Parker entered the door. He greeted them all pleasantly, but seemed quiet and preoccupied, eating his supper in silence. “Where’s Honey?” he asked, as he pushed away his bowl and trencher. “Asleep long ago,” Polly told him. Parker sat looking thoughtfully at the empty bowl. “Where’s Agnes?” he asked abruptly, pushing back his stool. Polly looked around. “She was here a bit ago. She brought in your supper. I think she’s in the lean-to. Agnes, Nancy, where are ye kapin’ yersel’? Don’t mope there in the dark, lass.” As Agnes appeared Parker shot a swift glance at her, but she did not look at him in return, instead she crept around to the settle where her father was and cuddled down by his side. “Well,” said Jimmy, “what luck, man? Have ye rid far to-day?” “Not so far. I was across the river. I think I’ve found the land I want.” “That’s good. A likely piece?” “It seems so.” “Where is it?” asked Polly. “Just beyond Muirhead’s. Dod Hunter told me of it.” “Muirhead, Muirhead, I mind that name,” said Jimmy, thoughtfully.