Tess of the Storm Country Part 33

Myra scanned her face closely.

"To kiss--yep; but he ain't never kissed the brat."

There was wonderful longing and pa.s.sion in her tones.

This was a new thought for Tess. The "Pappy" should kiss his brat--but were they one and the same kisses? She remembered the sweetness of that first caress "Daddy" had given her on the stone window ledge of his cell. It was tinged with bittersweet--bitter because Daddy was going away, sweet because she had desired it so fondly. But it had not been like the student's kiss. She was going to ask Myra Longman to solve the first great problem of her life.

"Air the kisses what ye had from Ben Letts--burnin' ones? Did ye lose the thought of the night and the night things on the ragged rocks?...

Did ye want 'em again and again--more and more kisses till they scorched yer face like the bread oven in the spring?"

Tess had risen to her feet, had whitened to the small ears covered with the tawny hair. Myra had risen also. Both girls were eying each other with intentness. Tess started to speak again, coming forward a step toward the other squatter.

"Did ye forget the storm, the wavin' trees and all 'cept--Ben Letts?"

"Ye air been to the ragged rocks," moaned Myra, sinking down upon the floor in a heap.

In a twinkling the meaning of Myra's words dawned upon Tessibel.

"I ain't been there with Ben Letts," she replied suddenly. "I ain't got no likin' for the brat's Pa's kisses--"

"But ye hev been to the ragged rocks," insisted Myra, settling back with a sob against the box where the child slept.

"Nope, I ain't; but I had a kiss, and Myra, it were--like the singin' in the heavens what the song tells about--like the feelin' in here," she placed her hand upon her heart, her eyes flashing golden, "when the world air filled with flowers and the birds air a singin'.... Were it like that with Ben Letts? Were it?"

"Nope," replied Myra sulkily, "Ben Letts ain't got no singin' kisses."

She rose languidly, tucked the blanket closer about the sleeping child's head.

"Tessibel," she broke forth hoa.r.s.ely, "for all women folks there air brats a cryin' for their Pa's to tell 'em yep or nope. And there air men a-walkin' on the ragged rocks with singin' kisses for yer pretty face and tangled hair. There air a brat sleepin' till it's dead in the box."

The tired young mother allowed her hungry gaze to fall upon the quiet infant. "Tessibel, yer brat--"

But Tessibel bounded out of the door, over the snow-covered rocks like a deer. She would not lose the sweetness of the kiss in Myra's warning words--that penetrating holy kiss she had treasured for seven long days and nights.

The torturing thoughts that had filled the mind of Professor Young at finding Frederick Graves in the cabin of the fisher-girl were new sensations to him. He loved Tessibel, and in her lay his future happiness. Her stolid indifference to his endeavors to aid her through her father had blasted his hopes somewhat. Then again he would feverishly reason that she had been born to overlook all save those whom she desired and for whom she fought. It was like her kind. Excuses for the girl in the aid she had given the student ran willingly through his brain. If Tess had seen the young fellow in the storm, it was but like the tender, loving heart to aid him. It was no proof that Frederick had found a place in her affections. With these thoughts in his mind he had worked for several days, quietly hoping that the girl might seek him.

Tess found him waiting at the shanty door for her one afternoon after returning from town. She smiled a welcome as she recognized her visitor.

"It air about Daddy ye comed," she said, lifting the padlock from the staple.

"Yes, child, I wanted to tell you of some new friends your father has made in Ithaca--strong friends to aid him."

"Friends," echoed Tess wonderingly. "Daddy Skinner had fishermen for his friends--and not people of Ithacy--come in," she added. The fire crackled on the hearth and Tess sat down to listen with open lips.

"I can't explain just how this came about," said Young, "but some of the people who were in the court-room the day your father was convicted have risen to befriend him."

Professor Young did not add that he himself had urged that money should be raised for a second defense.

"So last night," he went on, "there was a meeting of several prominent men and money has been placed in my hands for another trial for your father."

Tess tried to understand the long words, and blinked knowingly. The import of it was plain. Daddy was coming back--but how soon?

"When air he comin' home, then?" she demanded.

"After another trial.... See if you can read this?"

From a long envelope the lawyer took a piece of paper. Tess examined it carefully for some moments. Young eyeing her with a sense of happiness.

He would fight for this child as man never before fought for woman. She would love him out of grat.i.tude if for nothing else. He took the paper she was holding out to him.

"Can't read a d.a.m.n word--can't read writin' anyway. Tell me what it says about Daddy."

"It's a list of names," replied Young, "mostly members--"

"Of Graves' church?" put in Tess eagerly.

Hadn't the student been praying for just this? she thought.

"Yes; they are all desirous to see your father home again with his little daughter."

"Air the minister givin' money for Daddy?" was the anxious demand.

Young shook his head. He felt a sudden swift-coming desire to tell her enough about the minister's family to make her hate them all. Deforest Young realized for the first time that he was jealous of the student, of a tall dark lad of whom in the past he had taken no more notice than of many other students.

He drew a long breath.

"Not exactly the minister," said he, flushing with shame. "Here--let me read the names to you. William Hopkins of the toggery shop, one hundred dollars. Do you know him?"

Tess shook her head in the negative.

"Deacon Hall and his wife Augusta gave one hundred dollars."

"I know her," Tess cried, "and I knows him a little, too. I tooked them berries and fish--they has a cottage below the ragged rocks."

"And there's the druggist, Mr. Bates--he did not put down his name on the list, but he gave fifty dollars."

Tessibel listened to the explanations as Young read on, making it all plain to her as he proceeded.

She was leaning far over toward him, her chin resting on her open palm.

"They be dum good blokes, to give their money to a squatter, ain't they?"

The professor started perceptibly. She did not understand that all had been done under his supervision; he had tried to impress upon her his great desire to help her, but no words of praise fell from her lips for him. He would have willingly given worlds had she said that he was "a dum good bloke."

"They are all sorry for you and your father," he ended lamely.

"It was the student, Graves, what brought Daddy the money," she burst out with a vivid blush.

"No, the student, Graves, had nothing to do with it," was the grim reply.