But Agnes had recovered herself; her emotion was not so very deep. “Don’t be too sure. One can’t tell what a year may bring forth,” she remarked sagely.
“Will ye make me the promise, then?”
“The promise?”
“To wait till I come for you.”
Agnes shook her head. “I’ll make no promises, lad. I’m too foolish a creature for a meenister’s wife.”
“But ye’re so young; ye’ll sober down.”
“I don’t want to.”
Archie’s face fell, but he persisted. “Ye’ll be thinking that way now, but after a bit it’ll come easy.”
“The promises of girls and boys are of no account,” said Agnes, with more perspicuity than one would have credited her with. “Didn’t you promise a year ago that when you were twenty-one you would build a home out here?”
Archie looked troubled. “Ay, but circumstances—”