“Oh, poor grandfather, poor grandfather!” sobbed Agnes.
“Now don’t greet, child,” said Polly. “He’s at rest this long while.”
But the tale had a silencing effect upon them all, and they sat for some time, each pondering over it. It was Parker who broke the silence by saying, “This will oust Humphrey Muirhead from his snug quarters, and give your mother, Agnes, the house you want for her.”
“Yes, I know,” returned Agnes, in a subdued voice, “but ah me, how strange it is that in this much desired thing there should be a sting, for we must rob dear little Honey of his home.”
“He’s too young to know the difference,” said Polly, sharply, “and his father’s well able to make him another. He’s no worse off, an’ not so bad as my bairns were when they were driven out with no one but their mother to do for them.”
Jimmy patted Polly’s plump hand. “It’s the good mother ye were, Polly, an’ the bairns do ye credit. Well, this is a strange piece of news all around; it’s more of a tangle than ye’ll unsnarl in one evening, I’m thinking. Now, what’s yer tale? I don’t git quite the rights av it.”
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.