"Ye be here to stay!" gasped Tess, sitting up presently, and holding the thick neck with her curved arm. "Ye ain't never goin' back to Auburn?"
"Nope; I's here to stay with my pretty brat.... Air ye glad to see yer Daddy?"
"Glad! glad! Daddy, daddy! I air a-goin' to be your brat till we dies!" She had nestled, as in the old days, completely under his chin hair, crying silently, deeply, with low-caught sobs.
For a long time they sat thus, until the man outside entered and spoke to them.
* * * * *
Tess jubilantly cooked the fish for dinner, spattering the bacon fat upon the floor. She smiled alternately at her father and Professor Young; she caroled like a spring bird with bursts of happy song. Then they three sat down to the table to eat the homely squatter fare.
A sickening longing swept over Deforest Young. To have the love of this girl he would be willing to live in the shanty--to eat just such food for the rest of his life. But during the few days past, he had fully realized that he could not make Tess love him. He would never speak of love to her again.
Yet it pleased him to remain with them through the long afternoon, with Tess near him to watch the sun sink behind the western hill.
He had drawn on his coat preparatory to leaving, and stood with Tessibel's hand in his. A sharp, quick knock on the door stayed his farewell. Orn Skinner lifted the latch, and Frederick Graves entered at the fisherman's bidding. His face was drawn and pale, his eyes red from weeping. Tessibel's heart bounded in sympathy, but she remained backed against the shanty wall until his eyes searched hers for a welcome. He spoke first.
"My sister is dead," he said slowly, his voice breaking as the tears came into the dark eyes; "and my father sent you this."
Daddy Skinner was seated blinkingly on his stool; Professor Young, hat in hand, waited for the girl to take the extended paper. But for several seconds she stood staring at Frederick, with wide-eyed wonderment. He had said that his beautiful sister was dead, that she had gone with the thin babe to her loved one, even as Myra Longman had gone with Ben Letts. To Tess it was but another answered prayer, showered from Heaven. She felt no thrill of grief; she was only glad that the pale, sick mother had had her wish.
She took the paper awkwardly, and scanned it with painful embarrassment.