“No, he did live near here.”
“Doesn’t he now?”
“No, he’s dead.” Agnes laughed.
“I never heard of such a thing. What are you talking about? Mother, you never heard such talk. Come here and make Nancy tell us what she means.”
Agnes laughed at Jeanie’s vehemence; then she sobered down. “It was no laughing matter, I can tell you, and but for Archie I might not be here now.” And she proceeded to tell the tale of her day’s imprisonment.
“Why, you must be half starved!” exclaimed Mrs. M’Clean.
“No; the wolf left me a piece of johnny-cake and I drank some new milk, then we found some late blackberries as we came along.”
“Well, you will be glad of a good bowl of hominy. Come in. Father’ll not be back yet. Here comes Archie with the milk-pails.”
After her long day of solitude it was good, Agnes thought, to get among her friends, and she chattered away like a magpie, yet she was conscious of Archie’s gaze fixed upon her, and she felt uncomfortable, wishing he had left their free comradeship as it stood. “I am a little girl still. I want to be a little girl,” she announced suddenly, “and I don’t believe I will go to the housewarming.”
“Nancy Kennedy! Why not?” exclaimed Jeanie. “There will be other girls there no older than you. There is Susan Duncan and Flora Magruder, and even little Meg Donaldson is going.”