"Oh, ho!" shouted Silas; "it didn't take you long. I knew you'd be courtin' of me along with your questions. Now look here, John Hunter, you can't go an' carry this schoolma'am off till this here term's finished. I look fur Carter an' that new director over to-night, for a school meetin', an' I'm blamed if I'm goin' t' have you cuttin' into our plans--no, sirr-ee--she's t' be left free t' finish up this school, anyhow, if I help 'er get it." "No danger! You get her the school; but how does she come to have that air away out here? Does she come from some town near here?" "Town nothin'! She was jest raised on these prairies, same as th' rest of us. Ain't she a dandy! No, sir--'er father's a farmer--'bout as common as any of us, an' she ain't had no different raisin'. She's different in 'erself somehow. Curious thing how one body'll have a thing an' another won't, an' can't seem t' get it, even when he wants it an' tries. Now you couldn't make nothin' but jest plain farmer out of me, no matter what you done t' me." "Do you think they'll give her the school?" John asked. Silas's laugh made the young man uncomfortable. He had intended to avoid the necessity for it, but had forgotten himself. "There's Carter now," was all the reply the old man gave as he moved toward the door, which he could dimly see now that he had been in the darkness long enough for his eyes to become accustomed to it. The splashing footsteps of a horse and the voice of a man cautioning it came from toward the road. "That you, Carter?" Silas called. "Yes. This ground's fairly greasy to-night," answered the voice. "Bring your horse in here; there's room under cover for it," was the rejoinder. They tied it in the darkness, feeling their way from strap to manger. "The Farnshaw girl's here waitin' fur th' school." "Glad of that," replied the newcomer. "I don't know her very well, but they say she can handle youngsters. She's had some extry schoolin' too. Don't know as that makes any difference in a summer term, but it's never in th' way." The young man slipped out of the stable, intending to get a word with the new teacher before the others came to the house. The school was assured to her with two members of the board in her favour, he reflected. Liza Ann had gone to the other room, and finding the way clear he asked in a half whisper: "Did you lame your horse badly?" And when Elizabeth only nodded and looked as if she hoped her hostess had not heard, John Hunter was filled with joy. The mutuality of the reticence put them on the footing of good fellowship. There was no further opportunity for conversation, as they heard Silas and Carter on the step and a third party hail them from a distance. There was a moment's delay and when the door did at last open Elizabeth Farnshaw gave a glad cry: "Uncle Nate! Where in the world did you come from?"