e learned was up in Sunlight Patch. Some of the
finest speakin' in the world, I reckon, is up thar!"

"Up there," Jane corrected.

"Up there," he repeated after her, adding: "I knowed that, but forgot."

"What and where is Sunlight Patch? Twice you've spoken of it."

"Hit's a cabin 'n' a clarin'," he answered simply, "back in the
mountings. I war borned thar--there; all of we-uns war born there."

"An odd name," she mused, although she knew odd names were typical of
the mountains.

"Not when ye know how-cum-hit," he said. "Hit war called that-a-way by a
preacher onct. Yeou see, Miss Jane, my sister war born blind--leastways,
the fu'st thing they knowed of hit she war blind. Thar war four of us
brats in the cabin, two brothers older'n me who got shot, 'n' her. I war
the kid, ye mought say, 'n' when I war mighty small some-un took her off
ter the blind school in the settlements. She only come back 'bout two
year ago, 'n' fetched some blind books they'd give her."

"What were the books?" Jane softly asked, touched by the picture of that
poverty she had so well known.

"The New Testament," he answered. "Thar war five big books of that.
Then she had four big-uns of a feller named Dickens--'The Tale of Two
Cities,' that war. But what I liked most war the three wrote by a Cooper
feller--he warn't no kin ter our Coopers, Ruth says--called 'The Last of
the Mohigans.' That Injun, Uncas, war a man, I tell yeou! Thar war some
poetry I liked mighty well, too. Ruth says all of 'em wouldn't take up
so much room, if 'twarn't fer the blind writin'."

"Do you remember much of those books?" she asked.

"'Member much! Why, I know 'em purty nigh off by heart! That's how-cum I
kin talk so good--when I stop to think. By repeatin' arter her I know
the alphabet, the multiplication table, mental 'rithmetic up ter long
dervision, some history, 'n' some g'ography--but I hain't never seed a
map, nor writin'. Her books is writ in blind."

"I think you have learned a great deal," she smiled at him.

"Hit hain't nuthin' ter what I'm goin' ter larn," he declared. "But
moh'n what I've told ye, even, I larned from her readin'. Yeou see, Miss
Jane, she uster read ter ever'body who'd come, 'n' hit got so arter
'while--'specially Sundays--that folks 'd walk or ride ter our place
from as fur as twenty mile ter listen, jest like they war comin' ter a
singin', till the clarin' 'd be plumb full. They'd listen, 'n' watch her
fingers slip over them r