I opens yer mouth and pours it full."

The words, gathered from the vocabulary of the squatter, were harsh,
but the emotion in the tones softened them.

"Ye air a-dyin' 'cause ye won't eat, kid, and ye have the smell of a
dead rat, too. Yer lips be that blue--and yer mouth air like a
baby-bird's.... Eat, I says, damn ye.... Will ye swallow that?"

She held the withered lips open, and filled the cavity with warm milk.

"Eat, I says," crooned the girl; "eat, and Tess takes ye tight--like
this--and the rats can't bite ye, or the ghosts get ye till ye air dead.
Tess loves ye, ye poor little brat."

The child, strangling for breath, gulped down a mouthful of milk, but
the jaws set again, and the lips settled into a blue line. Tess prepared
the sugar rag, putting in a large amount of sweet, and dipped it in the
tea-pan in which she had warmed the milk. Then she allowed a little of
the syrup to fall upon the lips. The mouth snapped upon it, and long
after Tess had gathered the infant into her arms the smacking went on
and on, until both slept. Neither heard the wind that rattled the hut
boards, that rasped its endless sawing on the tin roof; neither heard
the willow branches brushing to and fro against the rickety chimney. The
child slept the sleep of a human creature moving silently toward death;
and Tess the sleep of the exhausted.

* * * * *

The next morning she stood in the doorway, grimly watching the
cottagers' boats, loaded with household goods, one by one as they
passed. This time of year was prophetic of the coming winter, and told
Tess a few more weeks would see the snow piled up about the hut and the
lake covered with ice. Deacon Hall's private launch steamed by, with
huge piles of bedding heaped up on the bow. One after another of the
summer residents disappeared in the inlet, and Tess was waiting for the
hill-house people also to leave.

She heard Frederick's voice in the lane, and closed the door, pressing
her face to the window. She saw him climb into his father's little yacht
to make it ready for the summer's stock from the cottage. Teola, too,
was on the shore, and Tess saw the girl turn longing eyes toward the
hut. Then, with a boyish tug at his belt, Frederick started up the hill.
His face in profile showed the squatter that he had changed--he was
thinner, paler, and looked years older. Closer pressed the sweet face to
the dirty pane, brighter grew the brown eyes. Dra