Polly told him of Agnes’s quest and of the surly reception she had received; of Dod Hunter’s account of Humphrey Muirhead’s first wife and of his son, and at last the situation was clear to Jimmy. “Then who’ll show the gintleman the will?” he asked. “I’ll wager he’ll drop his feathers when he sees it. I’m ready to vouch for my part of the tale.” “I am going over again soon,” said Parker, “and if you will trust the will to me, I’ll face Mr. Humphrey Muirhead and learn what he has to say. I am very sure that I should much prefer Mr. Kennedy for a neighbor to Hump Muirhead; it is mainly on his account that I have hesitated about the land; they say he can be an ugly neighbor if he takes a dislike to any one.” Jimmy replaced the bit of paper in its deerskin covering. “I reckon it’s as well to keep this out of sight till ye see how the land lays,” he said. “If so be he wants to see it, ye can take it to him or he kin come here an’ have a look at it. Meantime we’ll keep quiet an’ wait till he shows fight. That’s best, ain’t it, Fergus?” He addressed Agnes’s father who nodded assent. He had not taken in the gist of the matter, but was quite willing to agree with Jimmy O’Neill, who somehow appeared to be able to arouse him from his apathy more than any one else. In the morning Parker bore Honey away, Agnes shedding many tears over the child, to the baby’s amazement and Parker’s distress. “Don’t, little girl,” he said softly, as he leaned down from his saddle and touched her hand. “Think of that will, and of how everything will come out finely for you.” But Agnes did not respond; instead, she turned and went into the house while Parker galloped off, holding Honey snugly in front of him, the little fellow delighted enough to be taking the ride. It was a lonely day for the girl, in spite of the fact that she now could look forward to possessing that longed-for home of her grandfather’s. Yet, though she tried to picture all her family gathered together under one roof, and the happy reunion that now could not be very far away, she felt an undercurrent of sadness that accompanied all her thoughts. “He said he would like to be our neighbor,” she said to herself, “and he will be that, but if he brings home a wife, I would rather he would be far away.” She went about her work so listlessly that Polly was quite concerned. “I didn’t suppose that baby ’ud take such a holt on ye,” she said. “I tell ye what ye better do, Nancy; just go over to Jeanie M’Clean’s. Ye’ve been so clost at home with that young un that ye’ve skeerce been off the clearin’. Ye beeta have some change. Ye kin git the news they’ll be havin’, an’ if they want ye to stay awhile, there’s nothin’ to hinder. So be it’ll break up the habit ye have o’ living with the child.”