“I should like to see her and the children.”
“I will tell her; she seems greatly pleased by any notice taken of her or the children. Your husband tells me that you are putting up two more rooms.”
“Yes, he and Jimmy are working hard over the addition. It will be much more comfortable; the space is too small for two families.”
“Your husband improves. Your coming did him good.”
“Do you think so?” Mrs. Kennedy was wistful. “I have hoped against hope, yet I do think there is a little change for the better. He seems to notice little things more than he did, and has become very fond of the baby whom he at last accepts as our own. I think it is good for him to have youth and brightness about him. The children do not seem to trouble him, and I see him and the boys carrying on long conversations together.”
“I am glad to hear that; it promises well.” He suddenly stopped speaking, and Mrs. Kennedy saw that he had caught sight of Agnes, who had just reappeared with a bevy of girls. She noticed that Agnes met his glance and that a soft flush flew to the girl’s cheek.
“One wedding often follows another. Example is a great thing,” said a voice at her side. “I suppose, Mrs. Kennedy, that your little lass will soon be leaving you.”
“Scarcely yet,” replied the mother. “I hope I shall keep her by me for many a day, Mrs. Scott.”
“It’s Archie M’Clean, they say,” ventured Mrs. Scott, “though for my part, I think it will be some one else.” She gave a comprehensive nod toward the young man standing near Mrs. Kennedy.
“Marriage is not in the mind of my lassie,” Mrs. Kennedy returned with some dignity. “She has been away from her mother for so long that she is content to bide at home with her now.” Agnes now rejoined her mother who shared her stool with her. Seats were scarce, and many of the lads thought it no discourtesy to offer their laps for the convenience of the lassies, and the offer was taken in good part and generally accepted. Agnes preferred to share her mother’s three-legged stool, and sat there contentedly.