ight, original and
ambitious.

Betsy at sixteen was a capable, well-grown girl, such as the freedom
and vigor of those pioneer days produced--glowing with health, instinct
with life, and of saucy independence to her finger-tips. She possessed
a fund of native wit which might, perhaps, often have taken the turn of
waywardness, had not her scholarly pride held her girlish love of fun
and frolic somewhat in check. Kindly-natured, bright-faced Betsy,
champion of the poorest and meanest, helper of the dull and backward,
idol of the little children, and object of the shy and silent but
sincere adoration of all the big, uncouth boys! She was an exceedingly
winsome lassie, with a light, graceful figure, and a richly expressive
face framed in by a wealth of clustering dark hair. The sparkling light
in the great brown eyes, the saucy curve of the scarlet lips, and the
dimple in the rounded cheek betokened a laughter-loving nature; while
the proud poise of head, the exquisite turn of sensitive nostrils, and
the firm moulding of chin indicated dignity, refinement, and force of
character. In her stuff dress of dark red, her braided black silk apron
with coquettish little pockets, and her trim morocco shoes, she
presented a striking contrast to the linsey-clad, coarsely shod girls
on each side of her at the rude writing-desk, or even to her especial
chum and chosen friend, Susan Rogers, in homespun gown, cotton
neckerchief and gingham apron. It was well for the young schoolmaster
that his heart was fortified by its growing love for Abby Patterson,
else he could not, perhaps, have withstood the charming personality of
Betsy Gilcrest, and a deeper regard than would have been in keeping
with their character of master and pupil might have mingled with his
interest in this warm-hearted, brilliant girl.

The fashionable people from Lexington who visited at "Oaklands," the
home of the Gilcrests, wondered that Major Gilcrest sent his only
daughter to this backwoods school, and his wife sometimes urged that
Betsy be sent to some finishing-school in Virginia, or at least to the
fashionable female seminary at Lexington, or to the lately opened young
ladies' college at Bourbonton. Probably, had Betsy seconded the hints
of these friends and the rather languid suggestions of her mother, this
might have been done; but this independent child of nature loved her
home and the humble little schoolhouse by the spring; and her father,
whether at the pl