Before Dixie could reply, the cabin-door again opened, and in came a boy who was at least a head taller than Dixie. His frank, freckled face was smiling. He was carrying a pail. “Dix,” he said gleefully, “we’re going to have a real crop of apples this year. I’ve been down to the creek-bottom to see how the trees are doing. Maybe they’ll fetch in money enough so that you can buy that new stove you’ve been needing so long.” Carolina tossed her curly head as she thought, “Stove, indeed, when I need a new dress.” But she said nothing. The apples weren’t ripe yet, and she could bide her time. They were soon seated around the table, chattering eagerly about the new teacher who had arrived at Woodford’s the day before, but whom, as yet, they had not seen. “What you ’spose she’ll be like?” Ken asked as he helped himself to the rich creamy goat’s milk, and then turned to pour more of it into the big bowl for his little brother, who had been hungrily clamoring for porridge. Carol sniffed. “I don’t like new teachers,” she informed them in a manner much older than her years. “They’re always startin’ somethin’ different.” “You mean that new teachers don’t like _you_,” Ken put in with brotherly frankness. “They would, though, if you’d ever study, which I reckon you _never_ will.” “You’d ought to learn all you can, Caroly. We all ought to,” the little mother modified, “’cause as soon as we’re old enough, we’ll want to be earning our own living so we won’t always be poor and scrimping like we are now.” Carolina tossed her curls. “’Twon’t be needful for _me_ to earn my livin’,” she said proudly. “Mrs. Piggins says I’m the kind that always marries young, and I’m goin’ to marry rich, too.” Ken exploded with amused laughter. “Hear the baby prattle!” he teased. “You’d better be thinkin’ about your dolls, seems like to me.” The all-too-easily-aroused temper of the younger girl flared. “Ken Martin, you know I haven’t played with dolls, not since I was seven years old, and now I’m eight.” The violet eyes flashed and the pretty lips quivered. The heart of Ken always melted when he saw tears. “Oh, I say, Caroly,” he begged. “Don’t get a mad on. Honest Injun, cross my heart, I won’t tease you any more——er——that is, not again this morning, anyhow,” he added, wishing to be truthful. Then, knowing from past experience that the best way to dry up tears was to interest the doleful one in something different, he exclaimed as though he had suddenly thought of it: “Girls, what’ll we give as a present for new teacher? The fellows were all sayin’ yesterday what they’re goin’ to give.” The ruse worked like a charm. Carol looked across the table at her brother with eager interest. “That horrid Jessica Archer says there’s nobody in the school as is going to give new teacher as handsome a present as she is. Her mother took her over to Reno to pick it out. Jessica says as all the other pupils will give country presents, but hers’ll be _city_.”