There was a strong odour of pine as Martin flung open the door. The despoiled tree still stood on the platform. Miss Howard had put the tinsel trimmings carefully away for future Christmases. “It certainly looks as though we had had a good time last night,” said Talitha, glancing around. “Billy, I think I’ll let you and Sudie sweep out when you have a chance. You may keep the greens up as long as you choose; they’ll last some time. Good-bye until next summer,” she said to herself as she reluctantly turned away. They stopped a moment at the little heap of ashes and charred logs below the new structure. “It’s a fitting monument for the old shack we used to call a schoolhouse,” said Martin reflectively. “When I remember the days we spent in it, I—” “Don’t,” said Talitha gently. “The schoolmaster did the best he knew. He can see his mistakes as well as anybody now.” Miss Howard was silent, but she thought of the many such places scattered over the mountains, some of them presided over by just such teachers as Si Quinn had been. Early that evening Martin and Talitha slipped away to the old schoolmaster’s cabin to say good-bye, for they would start by light the next morning. “I ’lowed you’d be ’long,” he said, beaming down at them. “I came home early so’s not ter miss you.” “Oh, we wouldn’t have gone away without coming to see you,” Talitha assured him, drawing up a stool before the bright blaze in the fireplace. Martin seated himself upon an old chest in the corner and looked around. He had been curious to see how Talitha had managed to rehabilitate the dingy place of which he had such disagreeable recollections. “You wouldn’t know my old shack now, would you?” Si Quinn noticed the young fellow’s survey of the room. “You kin lay the hull thing ter Tally, I’ll be boun’—” “Oh, no, no,” protested the girl, blushing. “I just—” “Don’t I know your sly tricks? You started hit an’ did a heap besides. Not that Goose Creek folks ain’t the frien’liest, best-hearted critters in the hull mountings.” “Just think what you’ve done for me!” cried Talitha in a low tone. “Those books and maps—I couldn’t have replaced them this fall—and that box was such a godsend! Billy’s going to see that all the children have a chance to read the books this winter. They’ll be learning a lot and the days won’t seem so long. I’ll send them a package of papers and magazines in the spring.” “Law me, Tally, hit war little ’nough I did. I’d hev done a heap more, but I couldn’t. Hit’ll seem mighty lonesome with you-uns gone, but I’ll git some comfort thinkin’ of the chanct you’re havin’.” The call must necessarily be a brief one. Talitha was very tired and there was a long ride before them on the morrow. But as the two rose to go the old man caught at the girl’s sleeve. “Martin, you jest g’long and bide fer Tally by the big tree. I’ve somethin’ special ter say ter her.” Martin looked surprised, but he obeyed.