“He is the bonniest bairnie,” Agnes replied. “I love him, and I am glad he is my little cousin, though I shall probably never see him again. Parker Willett took him home this morning, or at least he took him to Dod Hunter’s, and he will see that he gets home safely. I believe the reason Mr. Willett didn’t take him all the way was because he didn’t want Hump Muirhead to think he had any part in saving Honey. I venture to say he has told Dod that it was all Jimmy’s doings. Mr. Willett is going to leave us, Jeanie.” “Is he? I should suppose he would, now that Jimmy has come. I don’t imagine you are very sorry.” Agnes was silent, but the color rushed to her face. “We shall miss him,” she said after a moment. “I shall particularly,” she went on bravely. “No one was ever so polite and kind to me as he, for he never will let me do a thing which he can do for me. He will bring water from the spring and will get up early to work in the garden, and he waits on me as if I were a princess. Could I help missing him? Jimmy never does those things; he isn’t lazy, Jimmy isn’t, but he expects us to do all the little things while he does only the big ones.” “That is more manly.” Agnes’s face flamed. “No, it isn’t; it may be the way of men like Jimmy, but it isn’t the way gentlemen like Parker Willett do.” “Why, Nancy!” Jeanie looked at her in astonishment. “You certainly do stand up for Mr. Willett. I think he is handsome and polite and all that, but I always felt that he was hard to get acquainted with; I mean he hasn’t our everyday ways.” “I’m glad he hasn’t,” Agnes flashed out again. “Oh, you are very complimentary. Perhaps you don’t like our ways, either. For my part I am too independent, and I hope not so lazy that I like people to wait on me; I would rather do for myself anything that I am strong enough to do, and let the men attend to their own work.” “I would, too, in a measure; but I like to see a man ready to spare a woman when he can, and I didn’t mean your ways, for your ways are our own, too, but I was thinking of Polly.” “But you like Polly and try to be like her; you are getting to be quite like her; we have all been thinking so.” Agnes looked aghast. “I didn’t know it,” she said faintly. “I don’t want to be. Oh, I’m not. I’m not. Polly is a dear, good woman, but--but--Mr. Willett’s sister wouldn’t be like her, nor his mother. I can fancy them, the mother a stately dame, and the sister so dainty and sweet; I wonder he can stand us.” “I don’t know what you mean,” said Jeanie, loftily. “We are good enough for any one. If he doesn’t like us, he can leave us. I’m sure nobody cares about having him here, for we are all of a different race, anyhow,--I don’t mean that exactly; but we are Scotch-Irish and like to go with our own kind, and he is a Church of England man and is cold and proud.”