own about her head and shoulders
one of the thickest branches. These century-old trees were really a
vital part of her life--old loves to Tessibel, loves that had kept watch
over her since the day of her birth in the shanty.

[Illustration: "I WAS WONDERIN', LITTLE ONE, WHEN YOU SAY YOUR PRAYERS,
IF YOU'D PIPE ONE FOR ME"]

A brilliant flame flooded her face.... Frederick stood with her in
spirit nearness. What she would tell him that evening would be whispered
so low that not even the nesting birds could hear. She imagined the
tenderness with which he'd clasp her in his arms, and thrilled,
visualizing the darkening of his eyes. Tessibel was painting
pictures--her exalted soul running the gamut of joy.

What a wonder-world it was! What a glad, peaceful, new day, her first
real day of living--the beginning of life itself; Frederick's life and
her life! Now, of course, he would tell his mother they were
married--would take her to Daddy Skinner, and--and--She could plan no
farther just then. Her whole being was God-lifted. Even the waves
lapping at her feet seemed to speak the language of a world to come.

She dipped the pail into the lake slowly, filling it with water. Then
with a last sweeping glance over the golden-tinted waves, she returned
to the shanty. Daddy Skinner by this time was seated in his chair, his
grey face wearing an expression of misery.

"Ye air sicker this morning, honey, huh?" asked Tess anxiously, lifting
the pail to the table.

"Yep, brat, awful sick, but mebbe I'll feel better after a while."

"Yer coffee'll be ready quicker'n scat, dear," said the girl. "Flop on
my bed an' stretch out a minute. Tessibel'll get her daddy's breakfast."

Five minutes later she had fried the fish and made the coffee.

"I air goin' to give Daddy his eatin's first, Andy," she called up
through the hole in the ceiling.

"All right; sure, do, kid," assented the dwarf.

* * * * *

Daddy Skinner gradually felt better, and during the morning Tessibel's
youthful spirits rose by leaps and bounds. All through the day she
warbled out her happiness, lovingly bantering the two crippled men. Thus
the minutes crept on to eventide, to that hour on the ragged rocks with
Frederick.

She left the shanty early, that she might commune undisturbed for a time
with her dear wild world. Through the gloaming the dull sound of the cow
bells came distinctly from Kennedy's farm. The roosters were crow