Tessibel did not wait to hear the rest. She raised the child from the basket, shielding him from the sun with her body, stretched him out reverently upon her hands, and tiptoed up the long flight of steps into the church. A sea of heads rose before her startled vision. Transfixed, she paused in the door, waiting for Graves to cease speaking. Her eye caught the pew of the minister. Teola sat next to Frederick on the end, Mrs. Graves between her and her younger daughter. Tess noticed the tense expression upon the sharp profile of the babe's mother. How glad Teola would be when the baby was baptized! How happy in the new-found Heaven for her child!
The minister's voice had fallen into a prayer. And still Tess waited with the dying infant, staring wide-eyed upward at the great church dome. Every head was bowed: no one saw the strange girl, with hair flung wide about her shoulders, nor the tiny human being resting upon her hands.
Silence fell upon the congregation, and Tessibel commenced her walk down through the sea of faces to the pulpit. She gave no glance toward Teola as she passed, but kept her eyes fixed upon Dominie Graves, who, without noticing her, had turned to the little flight of steps that led to his pulpit. When he reached the Bible stand, and opened his lips to speak, his gaze dropped upon the squatter. At first he thought he was dreaming. He looked again—looked at her—at the child—and paled to his ears. Tessibel was holding the infant up toward him, with a beseeching expression in her eyes that staggered him.
Teola had seen Tess pass, and had caught a glimpse of the thin child upon her hands. The pursed baby lips, from which hung the useless sugar rag, made her lower her head to the prayer cushion, shuddering violently. Frederick had also seen the squatter—everyone in the church had seen her, and the silence grew wider and wider, until even breathing was hushed to catch her words.
Her low, sweet voice began to speak; it thrilled through the congregation like the song of angels.
"BE YE GOIN' TO LET HIM GO A PLACE WHERE GOD CAN'T FIND HIM?"
"I has brought ye a dyin' brat, Dominie Graves," began Tess with shaking voice, "who has got to be sprinkled, or he can't go to Heaven."
The vast silence of the edifice echoed her petition.