So she simply told her friends and her father that she was going home with Dod Hunter and would be back soon.
Jeanie looked at her in surprise. “Why, what do you want to go with him for?” she asked.
“Oh, I want to. He knows all the country hereabouts, and we must look around if we are going to settle here.”
“Yes, but why not come in here next to us?”
“Because—oh, I will tell you when I get back.”
It was nearly noon the next day before Dod Hunter drew rein before a stout dwelling in the woods. The drive of twelve miles had lengthened to fifteen over roads such as one could scarcely imagine could exist and be travelled upon. Conversation had not been carried on with much spirit, although Agnes had gained from the old man considerable information about the country and the methods of its people. The girl’s brightness and quick interest evidently won her a good opinion, for, as they neared the Muirhead place, the grave driver turned to the girl at his side and said: “It ain’t none o’ my business why you’re here, Nancy Kennedy. I’ve no right to advise ye, but I think ye’d better go back. But if ye do conclude to hang on and matters go hard with ye, I’m not far away. I don’t name no names, but there’s hard customers for folks to deal with around here, and it’s well ye should know ye hev a friend at hand. If you want to come out as soon as ye get in, I’ll be waitin’ by this tree.”
“You are very good, Uncle Dod,” Agnes returned smiling. “You don’t give me much encouragement, do you? I think I shall stay till I have finished what I have to say. I am much obliged to you just the same.” She clambered down from her place, and went bravely toward the house, it must be confessed with some slight feeling of trepidation. Just what she had to fear, she could not guess, but Dod Hunter had succeeded in arousing a feeling which was the opposite of assurance. For one moment she hesitated and looked back to where the old man was waiting for her, then she shook her head and said, half aloud, “There is nothing in the world to be afraid of!” and on she marched.
CHAPTER IV
THE UNEXPECTED
The sharp bark of a dog announced the arrival of a stranger. One or two tow-headed children peeped around the corner of the house and then ran away. Agnes stood still for a moment and then knocked peremptorily at the door. One of the children opened it shyly, and Agnes entered. The house held four rooms and a lean-to. The principal room downstairs was utilized as a living-room; from the adjoining apartment came odors of cooking. “Say that Agnes Kennedy is here,” said the girl, with a confidence of manner which showed that she did not mean to take a rebuff.