“Ah, but they will be,” returned Jeanie, with the blissful assurance of one in love. “Shall I take the loom or the wheel?” asked Agnes. “Oh, the wheel,” returned Jeanie, adjusting the heavy clacking machine before which she stood. And soon the buzz of the wheel and the clatter of the loom drowned their attempts at conversation except when Jeanie stopped to tie a thread or Agnes replenished her wool. They could, however, entertain themselves in another way, and presently Agnes started up one of the old psalms and Jeanie joined in. [Illustration: VERY SWEETLY DID THE GIRLISH VOICES SOUND] Very sweet did the girlish voices sound to the accompaniment of the whirring wheel and the shuffling loom, and David thought so as he paused outside to listen. Jeanie, tall and straight, her dark eyes aglow, flung out her song with spirit as she sent her shuttle back and forth. Agnes, fair and graceful, stepped forward and back, and sang less vehemently but with more sweetness. “It’s a pretty picture,” said David to himself, “and I hate to disturb it, but a man can’t keep back good news.” As his figure darkened the doorway the two girls turned, and a rosy flush mounted to Jeanie’s dark cheek. She stopped her work and stood still, but Agnes went on faster. “It’s not the time to stop,” she said, nodding merrily to David, “or Jeanie’s chest will not be full against the wedding.” “But ye’ll be thinking that what I have to tell is more important than Jeanie’s chest,” he replied, “though maybe as it’s to Jeanie’s advantage to keep you at it, I had better keep silence.” “You’ll not then,” Agnes returned, pausing so suddenly that her thread broke off with a snap, “for not another turn do I make till I hear what you have to tell.” David gave Jeanie a reassuring nod. “You’ll not have me keep it from her, Jean, when ye know what it is,” he said, “though it maybe will defraud your chest. It’s just this, Nancy: your mother and her bairns are on the road and must soon be here. I galloped on when I learned it.” “My mother! My mother!” Agnes clasped her hands, and her cry went up like a shout of praise. Then without another word she ran from the house toward the road, tears of sudden joy filling her eyes. “She made quick work with her heels,” said David, looking after her with amazement. Such swiftness of movement was beyond him. “How does she know which way to go?” said Jeanie. “There’s but the one, she thinks, and that toward the village. She’ll not miss them.” “And did you see them, David?” “I did.” “Where were they?” “They had just come into the village on Adam Kinsey’s broad.” “And then? Go on, David.” “Dod Hunter agreed to bring ’em along in his ox-cart. It’s slow going, and Nancy needn’t hurry.” “We might go and meet them, too. There’s no use trying to overtake Nancy, but we might go on toward the road and meet them before they get here.”