Had Martin and Talitha only known, their energy spoke volumes for the Cause lying so near their hearts. A new interest had been suddenly awakened in the Coyle family. The slightest pretext took their less ambitious neighbours along the creek path curious to see “what Mart Coyle was up ter now.” A wide, roomy porch across the front of the cabin—which Martin had skilfully contrived at little expense—served as sitting-room during the warm weather. Here Talitha’s wheel whirred diligently in the shadow of the vines which had taken kindly to her late transplanting. The Coyle enterprise was contagious. Dan Gooch, with a new-born enthusiasm, valiantly led his sons forth to produce order from the confusion around the exterior of the cabin. Inside, Gincy and her mother worked with tireless energy and bright dreams of the future. From the first Sunday of Martin’s and Talitha’s return, the Gooch family had taken to “jest droppin’ in,” during the afternoon, until it had become a settled custom followed by one neighbour after another. Part singing was a novelty of which they never tired. When the blacksmith’s eldest son found that he was the possessor of a richer, deeper bass voice than Martin’s, his delight was unbounded. There were others besides Gincy who could successfully hold their own in the air in spite of the other parts, although Gincy’s clear, bird-like tones rang above theirs on the high notes. And so the summer wore away, and the heralds of approaching autumn sounded a warning note in the breezes and fluttered their signals from the mountain slopes. It was only a week before the time for their departure that Sam Coyle gave a reluctant consent to Martin’s and Talitha’s return to school. Two others besides Abner and Gincy were to accompany them—Peter and Isaac Shackley, sons of the blacksmith at the Settlement. Peter was to take his horse, a handsome bay of which he was very proud, the fifty miles to Bentville, and then sell it to defray his expenses at the school. It had taken him a long time to determine on the sacrifice, and his was the only sober face in the merry little company which set forth that September morning.