“It’s a nice little place, but it doesn’t compare to the other. What’s to be done before you can come over? Can’t I help so as to hurry up things a little?”
“I think you have enough to do as it is.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t. I am simply holding on till Park comes back or gives it up; I am not trying to do more than live there. What’s to be done at your grandfather’s place?”
“The house is to be whitewashed and cleaned, and things straightened up generally. I don’t know of anything in particular. I think we may go next week; mother is anxious to get settled.” She gave a little sigh. After all, this realization of her dream did not bring the pleasure of anticipation; it would be strangely unfamiliar, and there would be no happy associations connected with that house across the river. It would be farther away from church, and from Jeanie; and Agnes realized as she never did before that there would be a real tearing up of the roots when it came time to go.
“Are you going to have a housewarming?” asked Carter, eager for fun.
Agnes shook her head. “Not now; after a while, maybe.”
“But doesn’t every one have them when they first move in?”
“We will not, for it is neither a new house nor are we newcomers. We are anxious to get settled and have everything as quiet as possible for father, and when he is better we shall feel like having a jollification.”
“I had a letter from Park yesterday,” said Carter, taking a folded sheet from out his hunting-shirt.
“What does he say?” Agnes asked, her heart beating high at sight of the familiar writing. “Is he coming back?”