Agnes shook her head. “Ah, but Polly, you are almost sacreleegious with your firstly and your heads.”
“I? Not a mite. Can no one but a meenister be sayin’ firstly and secondly, and so on up to seventhly?”
“Don’t bother with her, Archie; go on and tell us. I’m curious to know.”
“As if that needed tellin’,” continued Polly, bent on teasing.
Archie’s grave smile was his only reply to Polly’s words, then he went on to say: “He’s no so tall, but broad shouldered; sandy hair and blue eyes he has. He’s rather a quiet-spoken man, but energetic, and seeming honest and weel intentioned.”
“Ah!” Agnes was suddenly thoughtful. Presently she laughed outright. “Has Jeanie seen him?”
“Yes, he was twice over in the past week. He’s thinking of settling down the other side of Gilfillan’s.”
“Has he a wife to follow him?”
“No; he’s but himself.”
“Ah!” Polly was disappointed. “Then there’ll be no housewarming.”