y," she pleaded faintly. "I'll never
come no more, but I can't--I can't talk."

Waldstricker walked toward her menacingly.

"You've got to talk," he gritted, grasping her arm. "You've simply got
to answer what the pastor just asked you."

Tess flashed him a look of abhorrence. Oh, how she hated this man!... It
seemed to her that he killed for the sake of killing ... tortured for
the pure joy of it. She set her teeth hard on her under lip, shaking his
hand from her arm.

"I won't talk!" she cried. "You let go of me! See? You touch me again
an'--an'--I'll--I'll--"

She paused for some fitting threat. Would no one help her? No, not a
friendly face met her searching gaze. If she could get to the door--out
into the snow, under God's grey sky! But as if divining her intention,
the elders gathered in an accusing squad in front of her. Frederick
remained in his chair by the window, apparently oblivious to the tragedy
being enacted in his presence.

"I wish ye'd let me go home to my Daddy Skinner," she prayed again.

Her curls fell in a cluster over either shoulder as she sank to her
knees in the aisle.

Waldstricker whirled upon Griggs.

"_Make_ her tell us what we must know," he insisted, "or by the God that
rules this house, I'll have her sent to some place where incorrigible
girls go!"

Incorrigible girls! He had said incorrigible girls of her, Tessibel
Skinner, who obeyed even a glance from any one she loved. Desperately,
she made a direct appeal to him.

"My daddy's near dead, Mr. Waldstricker. Please don't send me away from
him, not yet--not just yet."

"Then answer what we ask of you, child," interjected the minister. "I
think Brother Waldstricker has some questions to ask you."

Waldstricker drew a paper from his pocket.

"How old are you, Tessibel Skinner?" he demanded.

"Over half past sixteen," whispered the girl's white lips.

She _was_ over half past sixteen. There was no harm in telling that. It
wouldn't hurt Frederick for the church people to know her age.

"Are you a member of this church?"

Tessibel lifted her head. "Ye all know I air."

"Then answer this," shouted Eb. "Who is the man that made you unfit for
decent people to speak to?"

The wobegone face hid its crimson tide in two quivering hands. The end
of the shining red curls swept the floor. Frederick made no sound.

"Who is he?" insisted Waldstricker once more.

"I can't tell," moaned the girl.

"I'll make you tell," he thre