Tessibel Skinner was sitting in the shanty kitchen. She had a book in her lap but her mind was far from her surroundings. Andy had been quiet so long she'd almost forgotten him. Suddenly, his slight cough brought her back to the present.

"Ye look awful peeked, brat, dear," he said. "I think ye'd ought to see Young's doctor, hadn't ye?"

A vague smile crossed the girl's face, and she shook her head.

"No, Andy," she answered, "I don't need no doctor, yet."

"I wish ye felt better," sighed the dwarf. "An' the days is gettin' awful blizzardy for ye to go outdoors."

"But I got to go out, dear, fer wood an' other things. Hark!" She got up swiftly. "There air some one comin'."

In another instant the little man had crawled away from the ceiling hole and was under the tick. The garret was as silent as the frozen lake and the kitchen below, where Tess stood in anxious expectation. Tessibel, knowing it couldn't be Sandy, put aside her first impulse not to heed the rap. An instant later, she opened the door. That it might be Frederick was farthest from her mind, until she saw him standing there so thin and tired. Surprised and shocked at seeing him, the stress of her feeling found her faint. She would have fallen if he had not suddenly seized her.

"Tessibel!... Tess, darling!" he cried, sharply. Lifting her up, he carried her into the room. She clung to him, crying, her confusion calmed by his caresses. He placed her in a chair and sat down beside her. Suddenly, she sat back in her seat, roused from her revery by mocking memories of her wrongs.

"Couldn't ye let me alone?" she breathed hoarsely, covering her face with her hands. "Ye might a let me be."

"I had to come, dear," Frederick told her. "I want you to do something for both our sakes.... Oh, Tess, what terrible days have passed since I saw you last!"

After a short pause, she dropped both hands and glanced up at him. Then knitting her fingers together, she pressed them hard until they looked like the veined stems of a pale flower. He had come to make another demand of her—and she was so tired—so sick!

"I want you to make me a promise, Tessibel," urged Frederick.

"I said as how I'd help ye all I could," murmured Tess. "Ye're wantin' me to do somethin' awful hard, huh?"

Her soul in her eyes, she looked at him, but his gaze was on the gloves he was twisting back and forth between his fingers.

"Ain't ye goin' to tell me?" groaned Tess.

She dropped her chin into her hands with a touching gesture of pathos. Frederick bent nearer.

"Tess, Mrs. Waldstricker sent me with a message—and you've got to do what I want you to."

His strangely persistent reiteration that she should do his will served only to produce another, "Why don't ye tell me, then?" from Tess.

"You must do something to save yourself!" he cried.

To save herself? What did he mean by saving herself? What did any one intend to do? She'd stayed so alone no one could intrude upon her now. And then, there was Andy, poor forlorn little man!

"Is anyone goin' to hurt me?" she faltered, faint and frightened.

"Yes, dearest, yes, and you must—"

He was on his feet and Tess struggled up, too.

"What've I got to do?" she breathed miserably.

"Tess," he groaned, "can't you understand how much I love you; that I would save you if I could?"

With uplifted hand, he tried to raise her face to his.

"Don't!" she cried, pushing him away. "Tell me what Mrs. Waldstricker said!"

"You've got to do it, dear," urged Frederick, "or they'll take you away."

"What do ye mean by takin' me away?" she implored, moving a frightened step backward. "Who's goin' to try to take me any place?"

"Why—why—Mrs. Waldstricker says—"

He paused so long Tess could not bear the suspense.

"Oh, tell me!" she gasped. "Can't ye see ye air killin' me?"

Frederick began again.

"Mr. Ebenezer Waldstricker—"

Tess swayed on her feet.

"What air he goin' to do?" she panted.

Had her enemy discovered she was protecting Andy?

"He's going to take you to a—a—" stammered Frederick.

Tessibel grew faint and dizzy. She uttered a sharp scream.

"A reform school!" she cried.

"Yes."

The blow had fallen at last! She would be dragged from her home, up before the eyes of the world in all her illness and shame. Then she sank to the floor in abandoned misery.

"Oh, Frederick, save me!" she wailed. "Don't let him take me away, and I'll promise never to go outside the shanty. Oh, make him let me stay! Why can't I stay, oh, why can't I?"

"Waldstricker says you've got to go," said Frederick, sadly.

Tess sat up and flung back her curls.

"Well, he don't own the hull world, does he.... Couldn't you, well couldn't you say somethin' to make him let me be?"

"I don't know what to say," the boy mumbled.

"Couldn't ye tell 'em?" entreated Tess. "Please listen. Couldn't ye—couldn't ye tell Mr. Waldstricker 'bout our little baby—our baby, Frederick?"

He refused by a negative gesture of head and hand.

"Oh, don't shake your head, Frederick!" cried Tess, frantically. "Please!... Please!... Me an' the baby won't be any bother to you!... We'll jest love ye always an' forever, me an' the baby will....

"Ye could save us that way! Ye needn't tell 'em anythin' but that!"

Suddenly another thought took possession of her.

"What else did Mrs. Waldstricker say?" she demanded. "What were ye both wantin' me to do?"

"Mr. Waldstricker told his wife and my—I mean Madelene—that you'll either be sent away or must marry—marry Lysander Letts."

Tess stared at him wildly as though he were going mad. Or was she losing her reason! What awful thing had he said. Lysander Letts—surely she had not heard straight.

"Ye weren't tellin' me what were true, Frederick," she whimpered overwhelmed. "Oh, ye scared me so!"

"But I am telling you the truth!" he exclaimed miserably. His voice broke. "I can't save you, Tessibel. Waldstricker can do anything he wants. Why—why—Waldstricker's hands're stronger—are stronger than God's."

She heard his words as if in a dream. "Stronger'n God's," echoed through the recesses of her brain in fearful mockery. She was lost, engulfed in the hatred of Waldstricker. She saw through the mist over her eyes, Lysander Letts leering menacingly at her. She sat very still and held her breath. If she let it go, her heart would break.

"Stronger'n God's," were the only words she remembered. Then, if that were true, and Frederick had said it—then—then, nothing—nobody—could take from her this brimming cup of disgrace and destruction. She struggled to her feet, walked to the door and opened it. Her eyes sought the dejected looking man.

"I air askin' ye to go now, please, right now," she said quietly. "Tell Mrs. Waldstricker, I air much obliged."

"And haven't you something to say to me, Tess?... Oh, God, don't send me away like this!"

She laid one hand on her heart. "Only go," she whispered, "an' never, never come again!"

Frederick stepped over the threshold, and Tess shut the door behind him.