Suddenly Teola conceived an idea.
"If I should put out a little milk behind the house, in a pail, could you come after it, Tessibel?"
"Yep," replied Tess eagerly. "I could crib it from your yard, if ye'll let me."
"Yes, yes; that's the way to do," replied Teola, with a faint smile. "If I can't get the milk out, you go into the kitchen. Simply take all you can get. Take all you want. My father and mother will be home soon. They know by this time I am ill. My brother also gets back from camping at the same time. You see how careful I shall have to be, Tessibel. And in September, we go back to the city, for school always takes us home then. If I could only have my own baby. My own precious baby!"
Tessibel grunted. Teola misunderstood her.
"Oh, I am grateful to you, dear! I think that you are the best girl in all the world. So does my brother Frederick. He says—"
She stooped to cover the child, her voice ceasing.
The babe had been carefully tucked in.
"He's a been sayin' what?" The tones of the squatter were eager, her eyes so bright that Teola did not answer for a moment.
"He says that there is no girl as good as you, and that your faith in God is what he would rather have than anything else in the world.... Oh, Tess, if I could only believe, and be sure that soon the baby and I could go to—his father!"