"Yes, Father," interrupted Frederick, "give it to her.... She won't steal again.... You won't, will you—girl?"
This was the first word to her since that night he had lost faith in her. His voice seemed harsh; it fell upon her, numbing her senses. Her body went cold as if a frosty gust had struck it.
"You won't steal again—ever? Will you?" demanded he.
Tessibel struggled to speak. At last there came a fluttered confession, which made Teola Graves shiver like an aspen leaf. If she could only summon courage to tell her arrogant father the truth! She could not bear to look upon her squatter friend, nor upon Frederick's white face.
"I has to steal," said Tess. "I has to have the milk.... I can't get it no way else."
"There! There!" exclaimed the Dominie, with a derisive laugh. "If that isn't depravity, I don't know what is.... Now, then, miss, put down that pail, and go!"
He strode forward and grasped the handle in his fingers. But Tess held it firmly. Her mind flashed to the child in the hut, smacking fiercely through the long night ... she thought of the morning, of the hungry gray eyes and the ceaseless baby whimper—and defied the minister.
"I air a-goin' to have it," she insisted. "Take yer hand offen that handle."
Graves gasped for breath, but did not relax his hold upon the pail. With a motion as quick as lightning flashes, Tess lowered her head, and set her teeth into the Dominie's fat white hand. A cry of pain escaped him, and he opened his fingers.