r except the two doors opposite
each other, and the rough chimney at which the woman Mehitabel performed
her extremely primitive feats of cooking.

Channing began to wish that he had been less avid for local color; but
at that moment he caught Jacqueline's eye regarding him demurely, and
was of a sudden reconciled to his surroundings.

While they ate, through the open door they saw a scattering stream of
people pass along the trail below, all going in the same direction; on
foot, on horseback, and mule-back, and ox-back. Many animals carried
more than one rider. One old plow-horse came along, led by a sturdy
patriarch, crowded from mane to crupper with children of assorted sizes.

"Why, how queer, when we never passed a single soul all day!" said
Jacqueline. "Where do they all come from, Brother Bates, and where are
they going?"

"To the meetin'-house down the trail a ways," he explained. "I sont word
ahead that a preacher was comin', and all the folks is turnin' out."

Philip gave a faint groan. "What, to-night?" He had hoped for a few
hours' rest after the day's journey.

"Why, in co'se! Hit's moonlight to-night, an' the teacher's done let out
school a-purpose. I done sont word," said the Apostle. "'T ain't no time
to waste. 'Watch and wait lest the Bridegroom cometh and find thee
sleepin'.'"

"So there's a school even in these wilds? A lonely job for a
school-ma'am, I should think. Is she pretty?" asked Channing, hopefully,
with a thought of the accepted mountain school-teacher of current
fiction.

"'T ain't no her. It's a him," remarked the host; his one contribution
to the conversation.

"Reckon a her'd have right smart trouble keepin' school on Misty,
wouldn't she, Anse?" chuckled Brother Bates.

"'Low she would," grunted the other, and relapsed into silence.

Afterwards, on their way to the meeting-house, Jacqueline inquired into
his meaning. "Why would a woman have trouble teaching school here? Are
the children so very bad?"

The Apostle explained, "'T ain't so much the chillun as the grown folks,
specially the men folks. You see Teacher makes 'em all come on moonlight
nights; the paws and maws, and the gran'paws and gran'maws, too. He's
got a whole lot of new-fangled notions, Teacher has. They don't allus
take to 'em kindly--you know how old folks are about new-fangled ways.
But he makes 'em come ef they wants to or not, and he larns 'em,
too--not only spellin' and sums and such-like, but how to