"We was lookin' for Myry back, but not like--"
Tess broke in upon her words.
"Mammy Longman, I air a-carin' for a little chap what ain't goin' to live, and I wants a dress to take him to the church. Will ye let me have one?"
Mrs. Longman sat up, a new interest dawning in her faded eyes.
"To a church? Why to a church? He ain't dead yet, air he?"
"Nope; but his ma wants him took to the church where the Huly Ghost air, to have the water put on him.... Can I take the dress?"
"Yep, Tess; take one from Myry's box. They ain't good, but our little brat wored them."
Aimlessly, she lay down again and ceased speaking, but whimpered until Tess left the room. The girl made her choice from the small stock of dresses that had been worn by the Longman family, and had at last descended to the little dead boy.
* * * * *
On her way home to the hut once more, Tess paused on the rocks. The spectacle at Longman's had filled her eyes with the shadow of longing. She had seen Myra clasped in the arms of the man she loved. Tessibel's thoughts flew to the student. She could imagine her own happiness if she had been in the storm, and Frederick had taken her in his arms, and they should have-"I wish almost I was Myry," she moaned, "and the student was Ben Letts.... No, no! not that! not that!"
She sank under the burden of a new thought. Myra had sought, and had found--had searched for Ben in the storm, and had found him. Myra had had more faith than she had.
"Faith the size of a mustard-seed," flashed into her mind. Her own past unbelief pressed upon her, and the color fled from her cheeks, leaving them pale.
She opened the basket, and put her wistful face close to the sleeping child, her mental tension gone in her uprising faith.
"I thought as how ye were a-keepin' the student from me, but ye ain't. God ain't ready to let me have him. But he air a-goin' to let me have him some time. I air glad I got ye, and I hopes that ye live, too. Myry air got Ben Letts, and I air a-goin' to have--Frederick." She walked home in a reverie deep and sweet.