“You truly are. I wish now you would bewitch some one yourself and follow my example if—if it isn’t Archie.”
Agnes’s face grew pensive. “I am not bewitching in that way, Jeanie.”
“Ah, but you are. I know Mr. Willett is rather old, but all do not think so, for that Sabbath when you rode to meeting with him, many said it would be a good thing and convenient all around; and since Jimmy has come back, I have heard more speculation upon the same subject.”
Agnes shook her head. “I know the gossips will talk, but Jimmy’s coming back will not affect that. All is not settled yet nor can be till my mother comes. My father seems brighter, Jeanie. Jimmy’s coming seems to have done him good in some way. I think Jimmy stirs up his poor brain and makes it work better. Of course Jimmy and Polly will want to have a home of their own, and we shall have ours, but how and when I don’t know yet. Now, let us talk of David.”
“Indeed, then, I’ve something else to do,” Jeanie replied, laughing and jumping up. “We’ve gossiped so long I have forgotten my work, but I regret naught said except your calling Parker Willett our better.”
“Indeed, I did not mean that, Jeanie. He is no better, but different in his ways.”
“Ah, that’s more like it. We’ll leave it so, then.”
The little settlement had thriven apace, and now quite a village had sprung up around and beyond the M’Cleans’. There was talk of a schoolmaster for the children, and a site for the log schoolhouse had already been selected. Better dwellings, too, were to be seen here and there, and the Muirhead’s house was no longer the best in the neighborhood. The clearings showed their garden patches thriftily planted with Indian corn, pumpkins, potatoes, and other vegetables. The rude farming implements had increased in number, and tan vats and forges were to be seen here and there. Most of the little farms displayed homely comfort, and if not luxury, at least plenty. Joseph M’Clean had worked early and late, and although not one of the earliest comers, his clearing compared favorably with the others. The outbuildings, stout and weather-safe, gave shelter for the cattle and storage for the crops. In the woods ran wild the herd of porkers which, feasting on acorns and other nuts, were easily raised, and when one was required for food, it was despatched by a shot from Joseph’s rifle. The loom and spinning-wheel were ever busy, and now would be busier than ever turning out the rolls of linen and wool which would be required for Jeanie’s wedding-chest. Much talk there was over it all, the homely Scotch-Irish phrases cropping out ever and anon as the matter was discussed by the women of the settlement, who, like those of to-day, were all agog when a wedding was in prospect. To be sure the wedding-clothes did not demand very much time or attention. Linsey-woolsey, that combination of linen and wool, furnished the material for one or two petticoats. “Six hundred” linen, made from home-grown flax, was sufficiently good for a few bedgowns or sacques to be worn with the petticoats, and the same linen cut into squares and hemmed made the neckerchiefs. For winter wear there was the fur jacket of squirrel skin, and as styles did not alter, there was not much difficulty in fashioning the garments necessary. Yet with the flax hackling, the spinning, and weaving there was quite enough to be done, and Agnes was glad to lend a hand.
“If this is what calls you in,” she said, as Jeanie led the way to the loom, “I’m glad to bear my part. How comfortable you have everything here, Jeanie.” She looked around admiringly at the neat room, which showed traces of the care of both the master and mistress of the establishment.
“Yes, we have everything most convenient,” said Jeanie, “and it’s main due to Archie. We do miss Archie and his handy ways.”