"Special delivery from the U-nited States Postal Service for Miss Christy Rudd Huddleston!" Ben Pentland, the mailman, waved from the doorway of the one-room schoolhouse where Christy taught.

Her students — all sixty-seven of them — whispered excitedly. The arrival of the mail was always a big event in this remote section of the Great Smoky Mountains.

"Thank you, Mr. Pentland," Christy called. "Why don't you just leave it by the door?"

"Well, Miz Christy, I don't mean to be ornery —" Mr. Pentland stroked his whiskered chin — "but I reckon that's not such a good idea."

"As you can see, we're in the middle of an arithmetic lesson, Mr. Pentland," Christy explained. She pointed to the blackboard, where fifteen-year-old John Spencer was carefully adding a long column of numbers.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your learnin'," Mr. Pentland said, shifting his mail bag from one shoulder to the other, "but this is what you might call a mighty big special delivery."

The students murmured excitedly. "Go on and get it, why don't you, Teacher?" urged Ruby Mae Morrison, a red-haired thirteen-year-old who was the school's biggest gossip.

"We have more important matters to attend to, Ruby Mae," Christy said in a professional tone.

But the truth was she couldn't help wondering what Mr. Pentland had brought. Could it be a package from her parents, back in North Carolina? In her letters home, she had urged them to help her locate much-needed supplies for the mission school. Christy's mother had promised to talk to the women's group at their church about gathering clothing and shoes for the poor mountain children.

Christy had even written several companies about the mission's desperate need for supplies, requesting donations of mattresses, soap, food, window shades, and cleaning supplies. She'd contacted the Bell Telephone Company, asking them to donate wires and equipment for a telephone, since nobody in the area owned one. And although she knew they probably wouldn't answer, she'd even written the Lyon & Healy Company in the hope of obtaining a piano for the mission. Although weeks had passed, none of the companies had responded.

Perhaps, Christy thought excitedly, this delivery today is the first answer to my letters!

"I have to admit I'm curious about the delivery, Mr. Pentland," Christy said, "but it would be wrong to interrupt John in the middle of his arithmetic work." John was a gifted student who was especially strong in mathematics. Even before the school had opened, he'd managed to do all the problems in a worn, old geometry textbook by himself.

"Miz Christy," John said, "I could hold off on my figurin', if'n you want to see about the special delivery."

"No, John," Christy replied, "you go ahead and add that last column. By the way, you've done a great job so far. I'm proud of you." She turned to Mr. Pentland. "I'll deal with the mail during the noon recess, Mr. Pentland."

"Truth to tell," Mr. Pentland said, his deep-set eyes gleaming, "I'm not rightly sure the mail will wait that long."

"Is it a big package?" Christy asked.

Mr. Pentland nodded slowly. "Biggest I ever did deliver."

"Where is it now?"

"Over to the back side of the school."

"I wonder if it's from one of the businesses I wrote," Christy said.

"Looks like a donation for the mission, near as I can figure."

"It's not a mattress, is it?"

"No'm." Mr. Pentland grinned. "Although like as not you could sit on it, if'n it were willin'."

"I don't understand —"

"Come on, Teacher," cried Creed Allen, a freckled nine-year-old. "I'm like to burst wide open if'n I don't see what it is!"

"All right, then. Let's just finish up these problems first. John, let me know when you're done. Meanwhile, have the rest of you come up with an answer to the arithmetic problem I assigned? When we add two and four together, we get ..."

She pointed to Lundy Taylor, a burly seventeen-year-old who was the class bully. "Lundy, if I add two apples and four apples together, how many apples do I have?"

Lundy shrugged. "Enough for a good-sized pie, I reckon."

The class broke into laughter.

Mr. Pentland rubbed his mouth, not quite hiding a smile.

"Well, to tell you the truth, Lundy, I'm not much of a cook myself," Christy said, "so I'll have to take your word for it. But what I'm looking for now is a number."

Lundy stared at the floor.

"Lordamercy!" Creed cried. "Even I know this one, Teacher!"

"Wraight?" Christy asked. Wraight Holt, also seventeen, was one of Lundy's best friends. "How about you?"

Wraight shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Count it out on your fingers. Two plus four. It won't hurt to try. Nobody will laugh at you if you're wrong. Can you at least give me a guess?"

Wraight just rolled his eyes. He had always been sullen and stubborn, but lately he'd been acting even more difficult than usual. About the only time Christy had ever seen Wraight smile was when he was playing his battered old dulcimer, a stringed musical instrument. He'd brought it to school with him for a while, but she hadn't seen him with it lately.

"Teacher, I'm done with my figurin'," John announced.

"Just a second, John," Christy said. "Wraight? Imagine the four strings on your dulcimer. What if you added two more? How many would you have then?"

"Ain't never had no extra strings on my dulcimer."

"Pretend, then."

Wraight's nine-year-old brother, Zach, leaned over. Holding his dirty red cap in front of his mouth, he whispered something to Wraight.

Wraight glared at Christy. "I reckon there'd be six."

"That's right, Wraight," Christy said with a tolerant smile. "Or perhaps I should say Zach. Don't worry, those of you who are still having trouble with numbers. Soon you'll be adding just as fast as John does."

As she turned back to her desk, Christy sighed. Usually David Grantland, the mission's young minister, handled math and Bible study classes. But he was busy today with church matters, so Christy had agreed to teach all the classes. It was going to be a very long day.

Christy found teaching students in so many different grades very difficult. When she'd volunteered to teach here at the mission in Cutter Gap, Tennessee, she hadn't realized that her classroom would be filled with over five dozen children ranging in age from five to seventeen. She had a few gifted students who had already been exposed to some schooling — students like John Spencer and Lizette Holcombe, a tall, dark-haired girl of fifteen with intelligent brown eyes. But she also had many students like Lundy Taylor and Wraight Holt, who had never set foot in a classroom before. Christy didn't want to bore the more advanced students. On the other hand, she didn't want to discourage the ones who'd never been to school before.

"John, let's go over those figures in a moment," Christy said. She smiled at Mr. Pentland. "I suppose our curiosity is getting the better of us. Why don't you bring the package in here so we can all take a look at it?"

"You're sure about wantin' it in here?"

"If it's a donation for the mission, why not? The children will enjoy seeing what you've brought."

"Oh, I reckon they'll enjoy it, all right." Chuckling softly to himself, Mr. Pentland set down his bag and headed off.

Christy couldn't help feeling proud of herself. After only two months of teaching, she'd...