Agnes shook her head.
“But I may kiss your cheek?”
For answer she turned her soft rosy cheek toward him and he touched it lightly with his lips. The color flew to the girl’s very forehead, and she turned away quickly, saying, “Good-by for the last time, Archie; I must hurry on.” She did not look back, but Archie stood gazing after her till she was out of sight.
Just before she reached the edge of the woods she met Parker Willett, who, with gun on shoulder, was coming along the river path.
He carried a bunch of partridges in his hand. Seeing the girl, he stopped and waited for her.
“It’s getting late,” Agnes greeted him by saying. “I’ve been over to the M’Cleans’. Archie is going to-morrow, and he will see my mother. Think of it, Mr. Willett. Ah me, if I could but go to her instead of the letter I sent.”
“Why didn’t you tell her to come to you?”
Agnes looked at him for a moment before she asked, “Would you have done it?”
“I think so. Yes, I am sure I would.”
“That’s what I did, then; but don’t tell Polly.”