just such men as Andy Bishop--" He paused, and
during his short hesitation, pregnant with meaning, Tessibel kept her
eyes on him. "I was wonderin', little one," he finished, shame-faced,
"when you say your prayers, if you'd pipe one for me. I need it, so help
me God, I do."

In another moment he was at the door, and in response to the hasty
glance he sent her, Tess flung him a misty, loving smile.

"Sure, sir, sure I will," she called, "an' thank ye for bein' so kind."

Burnett strode out; Tessibel rolled off the dwarf's body to one side of
the cot, and Andy gave an audible grunt.

"I air gee-danged glad that air over," sighed Tess. And as she lay very
still, the warden's hearty voice came floating to her.

"That's a mighty fine girl you got, Skinner."

Tess also heard her father's husky reply. "Bet yer life, she air....
Good day to ye, sir."

Shortly after, the anxious listeners in the shanty heard the click of
the horse's shoes and the rumble of the departing wheels on the stones
amid the wagon's creaking complaints against the steepness of the hill.

CHAPTER XVI

TESSIBEL'S SECRET

Tessibel Skinner had been married to Frederick Graves for six long
weeks: She had become somewhat accustomed to the deception practiced on
Daddy Skinner, and Frederick was constantly allaying her fears and
misgivings by telling her that she belonged to him now; that she was his
darling, his joy, the better part of his life. Many times he assured her
between kisses that it wouldn't be necessary to keep the marriage secret
long. Each day, each hour, each minute, the girl-wife basked in the
thought of her young husband's love. She unfolded the hidden beauties of
her nature to him as spontaneously as the opening flower responds to the
genial warmth of the rising sun.

Early one morning Tessibel arose, a new light shining in her eyes.
Because Daddy Skinner was still abed, she started to the shore for
water. It was a glad, shining, diamond-studded earth that greeted the
view of the expectant girl; there was wonderful stillness everywhere,
and for some minutes she stood contemplating the scene before her. South
from the Hog Hole to the northern curve at Lansing, the lake was
dappled, its surface broken here and there by little capfuls of breeze,
which dimpled in the light, while the smooth spots reflected the blazing
glory of the morning sun. The leaves of the weeping willow tree swept
the rapt, upraised face, and Tess drew d