Outside the Longman hut the wind had quickened its pace up the dark
lake, but inside there was no sound save the small snore of the infant.
"Don't hurt you and me bein' friends, does it, Myry," broke in Tessibel
impetuously, "'cause I can't love Ezry?"
"Nope, I wouldn't love him nuther. Ma don't know all that's to know and
I wouldn't a married the brat's pa if I could," and she shivered, for
she knew that she had lied to Tess.
This was the first time Myra had mentioned her trouble, that is, in just
that confidential manner. Tessibel came closer. Had it not been a
mystery since the coming of the brat, who had been responsible for his
tiny life?
"It air some un what ye knows, too, Tessibel," Myra said, shifting her
eyes from her companion's face to the box where the infant lay, but Tess
did not ask the name. Suddenly Myra leaned over and whispered something
in the other girl's ear, and Tessibel started as if she had been stung
by an adder.
"Nope ... it ain't him," she cried, starting up, "he air bad but not so
bad as that."
"It were him," replied Myra, "and he beat me that night on the ragged
rocks and that air what broke my arm. Ye remember?"
Tessibel nodded. She had heard a secret that not even Myra's mother
knew--she felt intuitively that Myra intended her to keep silent. She
did not dare to speak again, fearing the woman above was not asleep. But
Myra, with less fear, resumed,
"'Taint no hopin' the brat will live, and if he does he'll get his
eatin's alright. What brats don't? But, Tessibel, I telled ye this to
keep ye away from the ragged rocks for there air no tellin' what will
happen to ye. And yer that pretty--"
Tessibel stared blankly.
"Pretty! pretty!" she gasped, stumbling over the words, "ye say pretty.
Me--pretty, Myra Longman?"
"As if ye didn't know it," scoffed Myra, "but yer face air allers so dum
dirty that ye can't see nothin' but yer eyes, and yer matty old hair--it
air a shame to live like ye do."
Tessibel sat up. This was her first ambitious moment. Never had lips
said such things to her, and she had always known Myra Longman. Rising
from the chair she disappeared into the outer room, and Myra could hear
the splashing of water and the shuffling of feet as Tessibel stood first
on one and then the other, washing her dirty face. She mopped the long
red hair in and out of the wash-basin, and Myra was not prepared for the
vision which Tessibel made in her new state of cleanliness. The impetus
of being good-looking by an effort of her own had blackened the copper
colored eyes. The long fringed lashes dripped with pearls of water while
the skin had reddened from the vigorous rubbing, but it was very, very
clean.
"I wants yer comb, Myry Longman," said Tessibel slowly shaking herself
like a big dog.
Myra hesitated.
"Ye got too much dirt in your hair yet," said she, "but if ye'll take
care of yer mop, I'll be givin' ye a comb to yourself."
Tess did not deny the accusation of her filth. She took the comb and
drew it through the wet locks. Myra was regarding her critically.
Tessibel--was beautiful. In the last year Ezra's sister had seen the
change coming. The complexion had whitened under the perpetual dirt and
the long eyes had gathered an expression of knowledge, while their color
changed from light to dark with passing emotions.
Myra bent her brows as she examined Tessibel closer. The skin was clean
and shone with the glossiness of much soap. The low brow was covered
with small wet ringlets, which turned and twisted here and there in
luxurious confusion. Over the shoulders, hidden by a soiled calico
blouse, the copper colored mass hung in dripping flame-like waves.
"You air pretty," said Myra slowly, "but ye air so dum dirty no one can
ever see it. Why ain't you washed up like that every day?"
"Never knowed how before. Didn't see nothin' to keep clean in my face."
As Tessibel spoke she stood before the glass looking at her own
image--spying upon the prettiness which Myra said was there.
"This hair air like red snakes," she gasped passionately. "Just like the
snakes that eats the little birds in the spring. In the sun their backs
air red like this--and this--and this."
She was angrily tearing at the beautiful tightly curled ringlets with
but one thought dominating her brain. Students never liked red haired
girls with eyes which looked like copper.
"Don't," ordered Myra, catching the rough hands as they pulled at the
profusion of redness. "Don't, ye air tearin' it out by the roots, and it
looks like--like the sun when it air goin' down in one ball of fire. It
air beautiful."
Beautiful! beautiful! Tessibel caught her breath and looked at Myra with
a yellowish glint, born of a new emotion in her eyes. Was the brat's
mother making fun of her? All her short life had this been Tessibel's
portion. Ben Letts had followed her along the ragged rocks over which
her bare feet flew with the swiftness of eagle's wings and when he found
she could not be induced to stop he would shout in defiance, "Brick top,
red head," and such names that went deep into the sensitive little
heart. When she reached home she would tear at the curls and cut them
fiercely with the knife which her father used to skin his fish and large
eels. Yet nature would send more and more of the burnished gold to adorn
Tessibel's head, and not until to-night had she ever heard one word in
praise of it.
The reformation had begun. Tessibel went again to the soap and water and
Myra looking through the crack of the door, saw Tess dragging madly at
her hair, sopping it first in the pan and then in the deep bucket which
Ezra used to give the pig their swill. Once Myra saw the mass of gold
disappear into the pail, and when Tessibel came again to view she was
sputtering, coughing, and blowing the cold water from her nose and
mouth.
"Won't be much left if ye keeps on at yer hair that way," called Myra
grimly, "but the soap air good for cleanin' it. There air other days and
nights, too," she went on sarcastically, "and it air almost midnight.
Yer Daddy'll be here soon. Wonder if the game warden air out to-night?"
As if in answer to her question they heard the dipping of oars and a
little later a boat was dragged to its moorings on the shore.
"Satisfied" Longman entered with his son and Ben Letts.
"Daddy were tired and didn't come for me?" asked Tessibel.
"Your Daddy didn't come child," replied the elder Longman, whilst Ben
Letts stood with his squint eyes lowered. He had an exquisite feeling
within him, longing for the sight of the girl after she had heard their
news.
"I air goin' home to Daddy--I ain't afeared to go home alone," she said
stoutly and defiantly, for Ben Letts made a move to accompany her. "I
ain't afeared of the night things, nor nothin' that crawls nor flies. Ye
knows I ain't afeared, Myra."
"Ye ain't goin' home to-night, Tessibel," said Long man, "for yer father
ain't there."
At first Tessibel didn't comprehend. She thought of the care which was
taken to keep the fish fresh for the market. Daddy was putting the
pickerel and numerous eels in the blind fish cars until they could be
cleaned. She looked into "Satisfied" Longman's face.
"Air he a carin' for the fish?"
Longman shook his head in the negative.
"Where air he then?"
Tessibel's voice was sharp and penetrating. It awoke Mrs. Longman
upstairs and the infant in the box beside the rope cot.
"He air gone to prison," put in Ezra opening and shutting his eyes, and
licking his thick lips with his red tongue. "He air where ye won't see
him to scratch his face when ye goes into a tantrum. He air in prison."
The bronze eyes widened and lengthened till the very fear in them
startled her companions. The tall, slight figure with its weight of
rags, swayed to the hut floor--the clean shining face gathered into a
painful pucker, while the two fists which had fought many a hard battle,
clenched until the nails entered the calloused skin under each finger.
Not one word came from the tightened white lips. The dumb agony was
worse than a child's frantic scream of fear. Somehow, Ben's mind went
back to the toad, when it also had borne its misery dumbly.
"Satisfied" Longman, stooping down, grasped the girl and stood her on
her feet. No one had ever seen Tess like this. Ben leered, the sides of
his fat cheeks protruding in the joyful emotion he felt at Tessibel's
suffering.
"He killed the gamekeeper," he grinned, leaning back against the wall.
"He air where ye won't hurt him now."
The tortured Tess could bear no more. She had striven to be brave when
she thought of "Daddy" in the small cell which she had heard many times
vividly described. She had thought vaguely of months, perhaps a whole
year without him, but Ben's words made her father a murderer, and
murderers went away sometimes never to return. Her Daddy!--and Ezra had
said that she could never scratch his face again. She hurt Daddy? Did
every one in the settlement think that? She sank down beside Myra's
father and winding her arms about his legs implored him to say that it
was only Ben's and Ezra's fun.
"It air fun, only fun, Satisfied, ain't it," she pleaded, "for Daddy,
poor old Daddy, never killed no man."
"We all says as how it were a mistake," replied Longman. "Ben says the
gun went off in yer Daddy's hands and the warden dropped, and the other
gamekeeper took yer Daddy away at the point of his pistol. I were at the
north reel and couldn't save him nohow."
Tessibel understood. It was all plain now. She loosened her arms and
painfully raised herself. The shock had hurt her flesh, and made her
sore and lame. She started dazedly toward the door, "Satisfied" trying
to stop her flight, but the strong young body, mad with grief and newly
found despair, slipped through the friendly fingers, and the night,
Tessibel's night, gathered her into its arms, till she was lost in the
long shadows of the pine forest.