"I has forgivin' ye," assured Tess, seating herself. "I were—sorry about the student, though."
"I know, I know; and perhaps God won't forgive me, for I've been so wicked! I make up my mind every night, when I can't sleep, that I will tell; then in the daylight I am afraid."
Tess did not answer.
"I shall think every moment of the day about you two here. Oh, my precious baby! If I could only take him with me! That mark will never disappear," she concluded, rubbing the tiny red forehead with her fingers. "If he only goes when I do! God couldn't be so cruel as to let him live, with his face like that, and have neither father nor mother."
"Nope," replied Tess with decision. "He'll take the brat, too."
"Will he die soon, Tess?"
"Yep."
"Why do you think so? Why?"
"He air too thin to hold out much longer. He don't eat, nuther. He don't do nothin' but smack all day long on them sugar rags, like a suckin' calf. And there ain't no makin' him eat."
"But he doesn't cry much," argued Teola.