Young stood quietly by the bedside, watching and waiting. His love for mother and son centered all his thoughts in them. He shared his darling's grief and desired above everything to console her; but the very depth of his sympathy prevented him. Hopeless himself, in this grim crisis, every human effort seemed futile.
Placing a tender hand on her shaking shoulder, he bent down.
"My poor little girl!" he breathed. "I wish I could help you some way."
"Nobody ... can." The hopeless despair of her voice made vocal the utter desolation she felt.
A gentle movement of the little hand against her face commanded Tessibel's immediate attention. She smoothed the pillow the while she whispered softly little words of love to Boy. Then she looked around at Young.
"Please tell Andy to fix the kitchen fire," she said, even at this time mindful of her domestic duties.
"I'll see to it myself," and he went out softly and down the stairs.
He found Andy in the sitting room.
"The doctor--what'd the doctor say?" the dwarf demanded.
"Go to 'er," trembled Young. "Brace her up all you can."
The little man went slowly upstairs and entered the sick chamber. Through the tears in his eyes, he saw the dying babe in the white bed and the young mother kneeling on the floor, the flaming red of the clustering curls an incongruous note of brilliant color.
Andy waddled across the room and knelt down beside Tessibel. Lifting his arm he let it fall across the girl's shoulders. His silent sympathy, always unselfish, never intruded. Tess stared at Andy a moment, and then buried her face in her hands upon the coverlet.
"He's going away," she got out through her fingers. "Andy, I can't let 'im go!"
"I've been prayin' for 'im, Tess," choked the dwarf.
The girl made no response, but to show her friend she'd heard, one of her hands sought and held his.
"If it air right for 'im to stay, dear," murmured Andy, "the good God'll help 'im.... Don't ye think so, Tess?"
"I don't know, Andy.... I'm afraid!... It's too awful!"
"Kid, ye know it air true. You've only to ask him," Andy insisted.
A hopeless shake of the bowed head accompanied the whispered answer.
"I can't, Andy! I can't!... I'm so afraid!"
"What you 'fraid of, brat, dear? Jesus air loving you same's He did in the shack. He got Daddy Skinner out of prison, an' he took care of me, didn't he, huh?"