Tessibel was a child again, a happy, free-hearted child. The body of her death had fallen away as Christian's burden had slipped from his shoulders at the foot of the cross. The babe had gone to its father with the blessing of the Holy Ghost!
Then Tess thought of Teola, and stopped on the tracks, the Dominie's last words rushing into her mind. She had understood the import of them. It had been carried to her by the awful expression upon Graves' face. He was sorry, this minister who had persecuted her father and herself--sorry for Teola, sorry for the brat!
"The Dominie ain't likin' Daddy and me, though," she murmured. "But the student air a-likin' me!"
For the next two miles she sang lustily, childishly, with the complete abandon of a girl without a burden. Daddy Skinner was coming home, and God had given her back the student. The remembrance of his eyes thrilled her from head to foot.
Tess passed down the lane, glad for Myra, glad for Teola and her child--glad for everyone. She was still singing when she crossed the wide plank that spanned the mud-cellar creek. She saw Professor Young leaning against the shanty door, and the memory of their last conversation, when he had asked her to marry him, made her pause awkwardly, the color flying in rich waves from the red forehead ringlets to the shapely neck.
Young took her hand, looking searchingly into her face.
"Where is the child?" he demanded in low tones.
"I took it back to its ma--she wanted it," was all Tess replied. "Air ye comin' in and tell me about Daddy?"
"Your father will--"
Tessibel halted, with her hand on the door, waiting for him to finish.
"Go in, child. I will tell you--in there."
He spoke slowly, deliberately.... Tess gazed at him, trying to read his thoughts. Nevertheless she obeyed him, pressing open the door with an impatient movement of her head. She had waited so long for just this moment. To know when the big, humpbacked father was coming home seemed more precious to Tessibel than all the uplifting joy she had experienced that day. Her eyes swept the hut; then they rested in a frightened glance upon Daddy Skinner seated on his own stool. He was smiling at her with misty, shaggy-browed eyes, his lips showing his dark teeth with each incoming breath.
Deforest Young saw the girl bound forward, and the red curls shroud the huge fisherman's face. Tears blurred his sight. He turned into the day to regain his control.