of hers."

And now the ingredients were prepared for the mixing!

"What's Priscilla Glenn got to do with Jerry-Jo McAlpin?" Mrs. McAdam
asked sharply, fixing her little ferret eyes on the speaker.

Long Jean bridled again and interjected:

"And for why not? Young folks is young folks, and there ain't too many
boys for the gels. What with the States and the toll to death, the gels
can't be too particular, not casting my flings at Jerry-Jo, either. He's
a handsome lad and will get a footing some day. Glenn's girl ain't none
too good for him; he'd bring her to her senses. All that dancing and
fiddle-scraping at Master Farwell's is not to my liking. The goings-on
are evil-looking to my mind. The girl always was a parcel of
whim-whams--made up of odds and ends, as it was, of her fore-runners.
What _all_ the children of the Glenns might have been--Priscilla is!"

"So Jerry-Jo's fixed his bold eyes on the girl?" asked Mary McAdam. "It
bodes no good for her. She's a sunny creature and mighty taking in her
ways. I wish her no ill, and I hate to think of Jerry-Jo shadowing her
life till she forgets to dance and sing. For my part, I wish the master
were twenty-five years younger and could play for the lass to dance to
the end of their days."

"And a poor outlook for me!" grumbled Jean humorously. "Another cup of
the tea, Mary Terhune, and make it stronger. I begin to feel the bitter
in my toes."

And while this talk and more like it was permeating Kenmore, Jerry-Jo,
adorned and uncomfortable, did his own thinking and planned his own plans
after the manner of his mixed inheritance. He could not settle to any
task or give heed to any temptation from the States until he had made
Priscilla secure. The girl's age in no wise daunted McAlpin. His eighteen
years were all that were to be considered; he knew what he wanted, what
he meant to have. He could wait, he could bide the fulfillment of his
hopes, but one big, compelling subject at a time was all he could master.

He secretly and furiously objected to the dancing and visits in Farwell's
cottage. He was ashamed to voice this feeling, for Farwell was his friend
and had taught him all he knew, but Farwell's age did not in the least
blind Jerry-Jo to the fact that he was a man, and he did not enjoy seeing
Priscilla so free and easy with any other of the male sex, be he ancient
enough to topple into the grave.

"She'll dance for me--for me!" the young fellow ground his teeth. "I