As more than one of the company around the little old cabin that night had surmised, the schoolmaster’s face, as he gazed about the room—only a few days ago as cheerless as it could well be—was worth seeing. The pine boughs in the fireplace crackled and snapped merrily as the flames leaped upward and sent a delightful glow through the place. A half-dozen candles twinkled out from bunches of holly and pine. The bed with its warm, new covering was like a gay flower plot; shelves and table bore unmistakable evidences of Christmas cheer. The faded eyes grew misty as they caught sight of a card on the shelf above the fireplace. It bore, in large letters: “A Merry Christmas from the Goose Creek Folks.” The old man’s knees suddenly weakened and he dropped into a chair. He heard the cheering and tried to rise and open the door, but he could not summon strength. As the last echo of “Merry Christmas” died away across the mountains with the sound of retreating footsteps, the tears trickled down his cheeks. It was the happiest hour of his whole life. His poor efforts had been appreciated after all; he was not to be forgotten in his old age. Until a much later hour than usual lights shone from the little homes about Goose Creek. The young people had loitered along the way from the schoolhouse, there was so much to talk over. Miss Howard was to stay all night with Gincy. The Coyle and Gooch families were to spend Christmas at the home of the former. It was to be a great day for the two households, and Talitha’s head was awhirl with excitement. She had unselfishly worked hard to bring happiness to others, and the greatest surprise had come to her. She was going back to Bentville the day after Christmas, with Miss Howard, and Martin, and the rest. Gincy, hawk-eyed where her friend was concerned, had rushed to the dean when she discovered that two of the students were to leave, and engaged a place for Talitha. Piney Twilliger had been fortunate enough to secure the other. Sam Coyle made no objection, he was secretly bubbling over with pride at his daughter’s success. There could be no more school that winter; besides, he was beginning to feel that an education was something to be really desired. By dawn on Christmas day two households at least were astir. The air was unusually mild with the fresh smell of a recent shower. The sun rose and beamed down with the warmth of May. By the time the Coyle family had breakfasted, Gincy and Abner were on hand to assist in the preparations. The loom, warping bars, spinning wheel, and a rude chest were turned out of doors to make place for the expected guests. “We’re real lucky to have such weather,” said Talitha. “I don’t know how we would ever have managed with the table if we couldn’t have cleared things away. As it is there won’t be room enough for the children—” “I’ll knock something together that’ll be nearer their size,” comforted Martin.