Early in the evening the large chapel blazed forth a welcome to the returning students from its many windows. From every direction they came—in groups or singly. Above, was a starlit sky, and the air was full of a soft, sweet melody unlike anything Gincy had ever heard before. Her ears, used only to the thrum of the banjo, or a crude performance on a small reed organ, were thrilled with delight as the college band finished the overture from “William Tell.” She glanced shyly at Urilla to see if her emotion was shared, but the quiet face betrayed nothing more than deep satisfaction at being once more among her beloved schoolmates. The great auditorium was filling rapidly. Happy faces peered down from the galleries, girls and boys elbowed their way past, calling out hearty greetings to those they recognized. There was a short lull when the president made his welcoming speech; after that, it seemed to Gincy a thousand hives had swarmed. Abner and Martin caught the spirit at once and moved constantly from one group to another shaking hands, exchanging jokes, and growing merrier each moment. Gincy watched them astonished. Abner’s light hair was tossed back like a mane, his cheeks were rosy, his eyes alight with fun. Martin took it more quietly, but never had she seen such a look of pleasure in his face. Gincy forgot her plain dress—plain even in comparison with the simple clothes around her—and the fact that she was surrounded by hundreds of strange faces. The spirit of youth—so often quenched in these young mountain people before it fairly shows itself—was clamouring for expression. She drew a long breath and decided to be one of the gay company. An hour later as the three girls emerged from the building which the bell in the tower had suddenly hushed, Gincy felt that she had come into her own. Her timidity had vanished, and a pleasant presage of popularity made her innocently merry and once more her own natural self. VIII THE MASTER KEY IT was nearly time for the rising bell, and Gincy propped herself up on one elbow to watch the light creeping above the foothills and the ox teams crawling along Big Hill pike. Suddenly, she remembered her new duties as monitor of the third floor. It was so hard lately to keep order during study hours and after the last bell at night. Gincy could not help connecting it in some way with Nancy Jane Ping and Mallie Green, the two recent arrivals from her own county. They had been reproved time and again for an untidy room, but it seemed to do no good. “They’re always studyin’ up some foolishness to keep things upset,” she declared disgustedly. Gincy had been feeling particularly lonely now that Urilla had gone home for a whole week; things had been happening, too. Miss Howard was at her wit’s end to discover the offenders, so sly were they, but Kizzie Tipton and Lalla Ponder were always the victims.