At the end of the lane, the candle in Skinner's window flickered them an invitation to stop. Tessibel answered their knock and embarrassedly offered each a chair as the door closed behind them.
"It ain't ended?" she faltered with a hasty glance at the three stolid faces, the post of Daddy's bed supporting the supple young form.
"To-morry," replied Jake Brewer.
Ben Letts moved uneasily in his chair. It was the first time he had ventured into the presence of Tessibel since he had put Frederick to death.
"He air comin' home, then?"
There was a question in the pleading voice as her eyes fell first upon one and then another.
"Nope," grinned Ezry, "he air to be took away."
Tessibel shrank back further and further, every muscle tired in its agony of burden-bearing. The rotten post squeaked loudly, bending beneath her weight, and over her in lightning rapidity swept the shadow of the rope, snatching her father from her--and God. The student had not limited the power of the cross; but Tess had discovered its limitations in Ezra Longman's statement--limitations that made her quiver with pain, as she pictured the evil thing which darkly menaced her loved one.
"He air a damn liar," burst forth Jake Brewer, "the jedge ain't said no words what Ezy says he has."
Tessibel heard and understood. The splendid, buoyant youth gathered instantly together, faith in the eternal promise of God sweeping over her once more. She might have known that Daddy was safe. Every long day had been filled with petitions, hurled at the feet of the Almighty: Tess, in her ignorance, had juggled with the sacred name of Jehovah, expecting the fulfillment of her prayers just as a boy, filled with ecstatic faith, expects his ball to come back to him after he has tossed it into the air. So would Daddy Skinner come to her, snatched from the shadow of an ignominious death, through some miracle of God's goodness.
"It air over to-morry?" she stammered, holding no grudge against Ezra Longman for his untimely joke.
"Yep."
"Then he air comin' home to-morry night?" she said almost in a whisper.
Ben Letts, looking at Ezra, closed one red lid, letting it fall slowly over the blurred blind eye. Neither he nor the boy spoke.
Letts brought his squint gaze back to Tess.
"He air comin' home to-morry night?" she repeated questioningly, raising her voice a little with an insistent glance at each fisherman. This time Tess read denial in their faces, but smiled radiantly. What did they knew about it? What did fishermen understand of the student's God ... of the faith that would bring Daddy home to her in spite of the twelve grim men, and all her father's enemies in Ithaca. Hadn't she consigned the beloved humpbacked father to Him who held the worlds in the hollow of His hand.