"What'd ye tell 'em you'd do, Tess? Air you goin' to lick 'er?"
"I guess so. I didn't tell 'em for sure what I'd do."
She dropped the whip on a table and walked across the room to the window where she stood looking out into the night with unseeing eyes. Then, whirling on Andy, she clenched her fists and burst forth.
"She's the only thing Waldstricker loves! If I hurt her, don't I hurt him?"
"Sure, dear," the little man acquiesced. "Sure, it'd make 'im ... think a bit ... mebbe."
Elsie stirred uneasily, making the chair rock back and forth.
"Baby's hungry," she whimpered.
Tess threw off her wraps and flung out of the room. In the kitchen she stirred the fire and heated some milk and broke bread into it.
While she was gone, the dwarf made up his mind that now, if ever, he must prove the power of the faith Tess'd taught him. Motionless, but watching the baby, he reviewed the proofs he'd had in the shack and during his years with Tessibel on the hill. Surely, the hands stronger'n Waldstricker's had lost none of their protective power! So absorbed did he become, he hardly noticed when the girl came back, but he heard her say to Elsie, "Here, cat! I hate you so, I could strangle you with it!"
Tess was kneeling beside the chair and he noted that her fingers fed the child carefully, and when a few warm drops of milk ran down the shaking baby chin, Tess took out her handkerchief and wiped the little face gently.
"Uncle Forrie won't be back tonight," he observed, after a while.
"Don't talk about him," gasped Tess. "I don't want to think of 'im."
"I don't see what we're goin' to do, brat," returned Andy miserably.
"I'll never give her back to Waldstricker, that's certain," Tess gritted. "I'll throw her out in the snow first. Let 'im find her, then, if he can."
Hunger satisfied, warm and snug, the tired baby smiled her thanks and fell asleep. After placing the bowl on the table, Tess drew the blankets about the little figure and stood up.
"Don't tell me not to do it," she said fiercely.
"I weren't going to, brat, dear," sighed the little man.
Then, the girl went to the window again. For what seemed hours to the dwarf, she stared silently into the winter night.
In her mind's eye she could see the high waves of the lake rolling and tumbling from hill to hill, and could outline the forest opposing its rugged weight to the tempest. Under the successive attacks of the gale, the loosened old joints of the house creaked their protests at the blizzard's roughness. The shrieking of the wind, the sharp rattle of the storm-driven snow against the glass, everything in the wild night without, responded to the conflict in her own breast.