Martin watched him disappear down the slope in silent astonishment. He had supposed Dan Gooch would be the last one to see the “needcessity of larnin’,” and here he was the champion of their cause against their own father.
Talitha was briskly clearing away the supper dishes when a couple mounted on one horse rode up to the door. “Howdy!” greeted Sam Coyle, lounging forward with a show of cordiality.
“Shad ’lowed he seen a gal and boy tromp-in’ ’cross the mounting this mornin’, and I sez hit wan’t nobody but Mart and Tally,” said the old woman, slipping cautiously to the ground.
“You war a true prophet fer once, Ann, but I’d be bound nobody’d known ’em anywhere else,” declared her brother.
“Plumb spiled, most likely,” grumbled Ann. From the depths of her black, slatted sunbonnet the gimlet eyes keenly scrutinized her nephew and niece. “Well, you air growed up fer sure, and I reckon you know more’n the old schoolmaster hisself. Thar ain’t nothin’ like the insurance o’ young-uns thet’s got a leetle larnin’,” pursued the old woman with acerbity. “Now what I want ter know is, what kin you do thet the gals and boys what never seen Bentville, can’t?” Ann Bills had seated herself before the fireplace, removed her sunbonnet, and was lighting the pipe she had taken from her pocket.
“Lawsy,’ Ann,” protested Mrs. Coyle indignantly, “their pappy and me air terrible pleased with what they’ve larned, and I don’t see no call fer you ter be so powerful ornery. If all your six boys hed been gals I’ll be bound thar couldn’t one of ’em make a gown like thet Tally’s wearin’, and she tuk every stitch herself. As fer Mart, you’ll know what he kin do ’fore long, I reckon.”
Mrs. Coyle and her sister-in-law did not agree on the subject of education. The latter’s family of boys had grown to man’s estate and married without having mastered the second reader. For once Sam Coyle did not come to his sister’s aid. Although he had no intention of allowing his children to return to school, he was swelling with pride at their changed appearance and his tongue was ready to wage a sharp battle in the cause of “larnin’.”
Failing to secure an ally, the old dame prudently changed her tactics. “Hit air purty fair work,” she admitted in a conciliatory tone, scrutinizing the hem of Talitha’s gown. “But I don’t set much store by thet kind o’ goods; hit can’t hold a candle ter homespun when hit comes ter wear. If I war you, I’d put Tally ter the loom; she air old ’nough ter be larnin’ somethin’ of more ’count.”
Talitha turned back to her dishes with a sigh. Martin had escaped Uncle Shad’s equally acrimonious tongue and gone to interview Squire Dodd. He did not return until the old couple had taken their departure.
Gincy Gooch came over the very next afternoon. The dinner work was out of the way and Mrs. Coyle was spinning while Talitha sat on the doorstep at work on the “store goods” Martin had brought his mother for a new gown. Gincy watched the deft fingers wistfully.