the soiled jacket, to make the girl into a woman in spite of her
environment.

"You are still determined to live in the hut?" he said, after clearing
his throat, and overlooking her question.

"Yep, till Daddy comes home. And then I's a-goin' to make him get offen
that land, 'cause it ain't his'n. It air Minister Graves'."

"But your father has his squatter's right," put in the lawyer, feeling
that he was giving the student less chance if he said this. "No one can
take the place from him."

"He ain't got no right there," she insisted again, "'cause I asks the
student, and he says as how Daddy can have the ground by the law, but
that it air a-belongin' to his pappy."

Her face was perfectly grave and serious, and she spoke slowly.

Would the name of Frederick Graves always be flaunted in his face?
Deforest Young believed that he was beginning to hate the boy. Suddenly
he leaned over, and touched the bell. It pealed loudly through the
building. Tess sat up. The bell disturbed her, and she cast her eye upon
the basket, with a shifting, darting glance. The janitor appeared at the
door.

"Hyram," said Young, "could you find a vessel which would hold berries
or fish? I would like to take some home with me."

"I ain't got no fish nor berries," said Tess, rising with a burning
blush.

"Then what have you in your basket?" asked the lawyer, getting up also.
"Child, you need not feel badly over the money I give you for the food
you sell." He was standing beside her when his eyes fell upon the
waiting janitor. "Never mind, Hyram," he exclaimed, "Miss Tessibel says
she hasn't anything to sell."

Hyram closed the door before Young spoke again.

"Why won't you let me help you, poor little girl?"

Tess stepped between the professor and the babe, lifting the child's bed
in one hand.

"I ain't got nothin' to-day," she muttered sullenly. "And when I says I
ain't got nothin', I ain't."

"Then why did you bring that with you?" insisted Young, with a motion of
his hand. "It is certainly heavy, or you would not have laid it down so
carefully.... Child, if you won't let me give you anything, please allow
me to buy the food which you work so hard to get."

His hand fell upon the handle of the grape-basket, but Tessibel's
remained obstinately on the other side.

"I's a-wantin' ye to help Daddy Skinner," she whispered, with drooping
lids. "I don't need no help."

At that moment a wail from the infant startled them both. Pro