ed Tess, bending her head nearer, "and I swears
that I hopes it if Ben Letts ain't a liar!"

Frederick's foot slipped from the round, fat body. He took a long
breath, brushing a damp lock from his brow.

"I believe you," he surrendered slowly. "Oh, God! Tessibel, I believe
you--and I love you, in spite of that!"

His glance swept over Ben's prostrate body to the death-like child. Letts
sat up with an oath, rubbing the inflicted bruises. Frederick helped him
to his feet.

"You go home," he said, piercing the fisherman with his burning eyes.
"And let me warn you against fastening any of your lies upon this girl,
for whatever she is, or whatever she has done, I know that you lied
to-night.... Now go!" Frederick pointed toward the door.

Letts, muttering threats and curses against the student and the
squatter-girl, stumbled out into the storm. Ben's head was splitting
with pain. A gash on his nose bled until his torn sleeve was thickened
with blood. He staggered out of the rays of the candle, and took the
path to the hill. The sound of footsteps caused him to sink down beside
the way and wait. Was the student--? No, the person was coming from the
other direction.

In the dim light he saw a man dripping with water totter toward him.
Ben peered out upon the wobbling legs, and in another instant had fallen
back, shivering with fright and superstitious fear. Ezra Longman, his
face haggard and ghastly white, stood directly in front of him.

* * * * *

Frederick closed the door upon Ben, and Tess turned upon him sharply.

"It were a lie he told ye," said she, "and he weren't worth killin'."

"I don't want to speak of him," stammered Frederick, "I came to talk to
you. It nearly killed me to-night, when my father whipped you, and I
want to save you from such things in the future.... My father gives me
an allowance--I want to buy the milk for the little child. Will you let
me, Tess?" His face had grown scarlet, his eyes fell before hers. The
girl seemed glued to the spot. "It will save you from stealing," resumed
the boy. "I can't bear to have you steal."

The tragic tone stung Tessibel. Teola had promised to tell him. She
herself would; it was only right that he should know. She took two
impetuous steps forward, opened her lips--but again remembered her oath.

"I air a-thankin' ye for the milk," was all she said.

With an embarrassed air, Frederick tendered her a silver dollar.
Tessibel