“But I was so pleased when father said you were coming with us,” said Jeanie, “and some one else was pleased, too.”
“Who? Your mother?”
“No, Miss Innocence; it was Archie. I shall like you for a sister, Nancy. Doesn’t Archie grow to be a tall fine lad? Eighteen, and six feet tall. He’ll not be long finding you a home.”
“That’s nonsense,” Agnes replied sharply. “I’ve no time to think of such things. I’ve my father to think of this long while yet, and when my mother comes, I’ll not want to leave her for a good bit.”
“Ah, but there’s no harm in talking of it. Archie has his eye for you and no one else.”
“But we are going to another place, and there may be a dozen girls he would like better, so we’ll not be talking of it yet, but of some possible lad for you, Jeanie. I’ll describe him to you. He’s no so tall, for you are of a good height, and of course will not marry a tall man.”
“Ah, but I will.”
“Hush, just wait till I make my description. He has sandy hair, for your hair and eyes are dark, and he’s a quiet fellow, for you are lively. Now, we shall see. I will point him out to you as soon as I meet him.”
“Law, Agnes, you make me feel creepy. One would think you were a witch.”
“I’m no witch, then, but I’ve just common sense. But did you hear how old Mother Martin was treated? The good old soul went to borrow a suppin’ of milk from Martha Mackin, and would she let her have it? At last she said, ‘I’ll give it to you, but I’ll not lend it,’ and it all but broke Mother Martin’s heart to have her say that.”