“Oh!” his sister gave a start. “And I did too. Martin, I’m going right over to speak to Enoch Shackley, and in ten minutes you must follow me. Just slip away without any one seeing you; I’ll be waiting outside.”
Halfway across the room Talitha was waylaid by a tall, black-eyed girl with a conspicuous pompadour. “I reckon you don’t know me, I ’lowed you wouldn’t—at first sight, anyway, but I war on the train the mornin’ you come from Bentville and you told me ’bout Gincy’s goin’ ter school. I didn’t find out your name, but when I heerd ’bout a gal comin’ back here to Goose Creek to teach school I pieced hit all together and I knew hit war you.”
“This is Piny Twilliger?” inquired Talitha politely.
“You’re jest right. I’ve had a powerful fine time, and I’ve been a-tellin’ Gincy thet I’m goin’ ter Bentville too, next term. I’ve changed my mind ’bout gittin’ larnin’.”
Talitha made her escape as soon as possible, although Piny would have liked to prolong the conversation. With a whispered word in Enoch Shackley’s ear she slipped out of the door unnoticed.
XII
GOOSE CREEK PLOTS AGAINST THE SCHOOLMASTER
“Hit air gittin’ powerful late,” admonished Enoch Shackley, rounding up the last of his brood. “I can take you-uns along ter your place,” he said to the schoolmaster. “I reckon you’re honin’ ter git home.”
The old man’s face suddenly fell. Never within his memory had he spent so festive an evening, and now to go from it to his cold, comfortless cabin. The blacksmith observed the look with an unfeeling smile, and attempted to hasten his offspring’s preparations for departure.
“Hurry up thar, chil’ren. Law me, your teacher’s gone ’fore this. She’s glad ’nough ter git shet o’ you fer one spell, I reckon.”
It certainly was a mystery where Talitha and Martin had so suddenly disappeared. Even Abner and Gincy looked puzzled, finally accepting Mr. Shackley’s offer—made with a knowing twinkle of the eye—of a “couple of cheers” in his wagon.