"I'm mighty glad that I chose Cornell for my college," broke in the boy presently. "I thought first of going to Yale.... And you're pleased, too, Teola, that I came to Ithaca? Aren't you?"
"Very glad," came the low voice distinctly.
"And I've never been so ambitious in all my life as I have since I've been here, and known you, and I was wondering to-day if--if--"
Frederick's voice broke off the words; his big form loomed in the doorway before Dan could finish his sentence.
"Haven't you kids finished that toffy? Better let me help, too."
There was a noticeable tremor in Teola's voice as she replied: "We've finished, Frederick, and you can carry the butter and those plates."
"I've something important to tell you, Teola," whispered Dan.
The girl did not answer, but the student knew that she would listen to him in some future time.
The drawing-room was festooned with evergreens and winter ferns, wound here and there with streamers of various-colored ribbons. Two large lamps, one in the window, and the other on a table near the dining-room door, sent forth their light through red shades. Glass dishes filled with apples and golden oranges decorated the top of the piano and surrounded the lamps.
When Dan and Teola left the kitchen, both flushed with the first emotions of their youthful hearts, there came to them gurgles of girlish laughter, intermingled now and then with the loud voice of some merry, happy boy.
After two hours of strenuous toffy-pulling the tired young revellers sat down to plates heaped with goodies.
Just at this juncture a ring of the door-bell pealed through the house. A silence fell over the company and a sound of altercation came to them distinctly. Suddenly the drawing-room door burst violently open and a spectacle, in strange contrast to the cheery scene about them, flashed upon the eyes of the young people. A red-haired girl, unkempt and dripping, wild anxiety portrayed upon her face, stood in the doorway. There was not the slightest embarrassment in her glance as her peculiar eyes traveled the lines of boys and girls, sitting round the wall. When at last they fell on Frederick, she took an impetuous step toward him, a brilliant smile lighting the wan face. Stupefaction rested upon the student as he recognized Tessibel Skinner.
"It air time--to pray," said she, looking straight at him, as he slowly rose from his chair. "Daddy Skinner air to be took away--unless yer God stops the rope."
Every word was distinct--unless God would stay the rope. The words repeated themselves over in the boy's brain and his face deepened in color. It was the beautiful faith of the wild, untaught young girl with the hot blood rushing in her veins that called forth the flush. His heart sickened with his own lack of confidence in God. He was to preach of a crucified Saviour, but no such faith and hope as this of Tessibel Skinner's would aid him. He was even now ashamed of the girl in cowhide boots and torn, thin skirt.