warm sop for the child, and taking him from his
mother's arm, she sat down in the rocking chair. She did not speak again
until she had drained the sweetened water from the bread-crusts, and the
child had smacked it down eagerly.

Suddenly she spoke, handing the babe to Teola.

"Can't ye put out a drop more milk evenin's?"

"I took all there was last night, and the night before, too. And this
morning Rebecca was furious--she had to go without milk in her coffee. I
don't know that I can get any to-night."

"The weather air so cold now," explained Tess, "Kennedy won't let his
cows stay in the fields nights. I might crib some more if I could. Every
time I steals up to yer house, I thinks yer woman'll see me; and yer
Pappy and Mammy comes home to-morry."

Teola nodded.

"If yer Pappy catched me swipin' milk, he'd knock the head offen me. I
steals it just the same.... I air afraid of yer Pappy, though."

"No wonder," replied Teola, and she lapsed into silence.

Her father hated the squatter girl--hated the fishermen who still plied
their unlawful trade under the noses of the gamekeepers.

Teola was crying softly. She felt it was only just to relieve Tess of
the stigma she had placed upon her. But to go home and face the proud
young brother with the story of her sin--with the lie she had told--were
almost unbearable. Then another thought pierced her. Could Tess keep the
baby all winter? And would she herself have the courage to live, knowing
that he might sometimes be hungry and cold? Frederick would help her.
She was glad she had decided to tell him.

* * * * *

As she walked up the long hill, she saw her brother standing on the
porch, and noted the pallor of his face, the expression of misery in his
eyes. At first the boy did not see her--not until she called his name
softly.

Teola sank upon the upper step.

"It takes away my breath to climb that hill," she panted, when she
could speak. "It grows harder and harder every day."

"I shall be glad when we leave this old cottage," was the boy's moody
reply. "I never knew how much I hated the lake until to-day."

Teola did not answer to this, for she knew that she was to blame for
that hatred. Frederick was looking at the hut under the willow wofully.

"If anyone had told me what I saw last night," he blurted out, a moment
later, "I believe I would have killed him.... I loved her, Teola."

Now she would tell him--send him back to