"What did you—steal?"
"Milk for the brat.... He can't starve, can he?"
Slowly Professor Young dropped her arm, gazing at her mutely.
"Ye ain't mad at me?" she ventured, watching him narrowly.
"No! I'm only sorry—infinitely sorry for you."
The tender tone in his voice, the mist rising in his eyes, brought Tess to his side.
"I thanks ye for all ye been a-doin' for Daddy and me," she said brokenly. "I does thank ye.... Don't look at me like that—it air a-hurtin' me."
The low voice, filled with unshed tears, rang with emotion.
A sudden inspiration seized Young.