nd Ezy air
both gone. Satisfied says as how Myry air a-smilin' and as how ye said
she were happy. Satisfied and me feels better, we does."

Tessibel choked back the welling tears.

The gray head resting upon a soiled pillow, the pale face turned toward
the wall, which had not turned to her, struck Tess deeper than
Satisfied's stolid grief.

"Ye be sure Myry air happy?" came the tired voice again.

"Yep."

Mrs. Longman threw her eyes on Tessibel.

"If she air happy, what air ye cryin' for?"

"'Cause it air lonely for ye and Satisfied without her and the brat. I
knows, 'cause I ain't had Daddy in such a long time."

"We was lookin' for Myry back, but not like--"

Tess broke in upon her words.

"Mammy Longman, I air a-carin' for a little chap what ain't goin' to
live, and I wants a dress to take him to the church. Will ye let me have
one?"

Mrs. Longman sat up, a new interest dawning in her faded eyes.

"To a church? Why to a church? He ain't dead yet, air he?"

"Nope; but his ma wants him took to the church where the Huly Ghost air,
to have the water put on him.... Can I take the dress?"

"Yep, Tess; take one from Myry's box. They ain't good, but our little
brat wored them."

Aimlessly, she lay down again and ceased speaking, but whimpered until
Tess left the room. The girl made her choice from the small stock of
dresses that had been worn by the Longman family, and had at last
descended to the little dead boy.

* * * * *

On her way home to the hut once more, Tess paused on the rocks. The
spectacle at Longman's had filled her eyes with the shadow of longing.
She had seen Myra clasped in the arms of the man she loved. Tessibel's
thoughts flew to the student. She could imagine her own happiness if she
had been in the storm, and Frederick had taken her in his arms, and
they should have--

"I wish almost I was Myry," she moaned, "and the student was Ben
Letts.... No, no! not that! not that!"

She sank under the burden of a new thought. Myra had sought, and had
found--had searched for Ben in the storm, and had found him. Myra had
had more faith than she had.

"Faith the size of a mustard-seed," flashed into her mind. Her own past
unbelief pressed upon her, and the color fled from her cheeks, leaving
them pale.

She opened the basket, and put her wistful face close to the sleeping
child, her mental tension gone in her uprising faith.

"I thought as how ye were a-keep