"It would be easy for you to read any book if you went to school," he told her. "How old are you?"
"Comin' sixteen."
"And cannot read--it's a pity! And wouldn't you like to learn to sing?"
Young was desirous of touching a responsive strain in the girl.
"Dum sight rather see Daddy--that's what I came here for! Ain't ye going to let me see him?"
Professor Young rose with a sigh. Like the rest of her race, she did not know gratitude. He had worked diligently, preparing an appeal for a new trial which would bring acquittal to her humpbacked father, and he was interested in her own welfare, but her thankless words checked his inquiry. The professor did not realize what love meant to Tessibel, for every desire within her paled into insignificance beside her passionate devotion to Daddy Skinner.
Tess followed him silently up the long winding stairs, her heart thumping in anticipation. The deputy's search of her clothing brought a flush to her face, but without a word she allowed him to draw off the great boots and quietly watched him as he turned them upside down, receiving them back gravely. Her longing to see Daddy Skinner, to be in his arms, to hug the grizzled head, overshadowed even this indignity. So long had it been since Tess had nestled in the shaggy chin hair, that her heart was sore and wildly impatient. Faith in Frederick's God had been forgotten--no other thought occupied her mind save that they were going to take away her beloved--the only one left to her. She deigned not a glance at Professor Young after the deputy had gone, and measured the oilcloth-covered floor restlessly with the stamp, stamp, stamp of the big boots.
Professor Young's presence was no more to her than the small insects which scurried from the edge of the floor covering into the light and then back into their hiding places, afraid of the human giants which loomed up before them. What did she care for reading, writing and such things. She wanted to be with Daddy Skinner--wanted him home in the shanty, as of old.
She kept her eyes riveted upon the open door. Suddenly she leaned forward, for the ominous clanging of irons came to her ears. She thought of the night she had been found scaling the ivy to Daddy's cell--how long she had waited in the darkness for only a little word about him. They had given her none, and her vivid imagination brought back the anguish of that lonely walk through the storm to the hut.