“Well, Tally, I suppose you’re right,” her brother said at last, “but it’ll take the sunshine out of the whole year for me, to know that you’re missing all this. And I’d counted so on the good times we’d have together.” “Now, Mart, don’t you worry about me one minute. I reckon it’s all for the best. Maybe there’s something special in the mountains for me to do; I’m going to try to think so anyway.” “What reason are you going to give the folks for going home?” “I’m going to tell them the truth that there wasn’t room for so many girls. I shan’t say a word about Gincy only that she’s well and having a fine time.” That afternoon while Gincy was out of the room, Talitha removed the tiny wardrobe she had brought, to make room for Urilla’s. Long before light the next morning, while Gincy slept soundly, all unaware of her friend’s sacrifice, Talitha boarded the train which could only take her so short a distance toward home. She sank into a seat timidly. She had never travelled alone before, and when she reached the Gap the loneliest part was yet to come. As the train pulled out she tried to wave a cheerful good-bye to Martin, who stood disconsolately outside in the darkness. The coach was full of people who had evidently travelled all night, for they were in all sorts of positions trying to get a little sleep. Talitha’s eyes were sleepless, although she had hardly closed them that night. It was disagreeably warm and stuffy. She longed to open the window, but the girl beside her was propped comfortably in the corner of the seat, oblivious to her surroundings. Talitha looked at her curiously. She was a mountain girl, that was evident, but not from Goose Creek nor the Settlement—possibly from Redbird. She might be kin to the Twilligers, there were legions of them scattered through the mountains, and she favoured them wonderfully, now Talitha thought of it. Suddenly the girl opened her eyes and stared at Talitha. “I reckon I must hev been asleep,” she said with a wide yawn. “Whar did you git on?” “At Bentville.” “Bentville! What kind of a place is hit? I come purty nigh goin’ thar onct and then I changed my mind. I couldn’t pin myself down ter book larnin’ nohow.” Talitha viewed the speaker with astonishment. “What’s your name?” she inquired coldly. “Piny Twilliger.” “Did you know that Gincy Gooch is going to school at Bentville?” asked Talitha. “Law me, why Gincy’s my cousin. Whatever put hit into her head? I wouldn’t hev thought hit of her.” “Then you don’t know Gincy,” was the retort. “She’s as ambitious as can be and loves to study. She’s going to be somebody, I tell you. Abner’s at school too, and their folks are so proud of them.” “Law me,” said the girl again. “I never heerd of any kin ter the Twilligers takin’ ter larnin’ afore,” and she relapsed into silent amazement. She had not recovered speech when the small station at the Gap was reached.