"Her father's trial comes up to-morrow—I wonder if they will allow the girl to attend."
This was from Frederick—he had not seen Tessibel since the night he had told her how to help her father. His face gathered a crimson shade as he remembered that he had promised her that he, too, would pray for her Daddy. The sympathy he had felt in his heart, throbbed again as he thought of her lonely grief—and the dead toad. He would keep his promise to Tess—pray that something might come into her life if somebody went out.
"Mother," said Teola, changing the subject abruptly, "why can't we have a toffy pull. I want one so badly."
"It's such a messy thing," sighed Mrs. Graves, looking about upon the tidy home, "and not one of you young people can keep your sticky hands from the curtains and furniture. But I suppose, if you will have it, nothing I can say will alter it. But remember this: I won't have those boys and girls tramping through my house and mussing up everything."
As they rose from the table Teola followed her brother into the hall.
"Frederick, if I arrange the toffy pull, do you suppose Mr. Jordan would come?"
She dropped her eyes—the blood curling to the edge of the tiny ringlets that clung to her forehead. Her brother gave a low laugh.
"He would be only too pleased, Sis, and he is a capital chap. He's a great favorite at the frat with all the boys. Shall I invite him?"
"Yes ... for day after to-morrow evening. Will that suit you?"
"Let me see," reflected Frederick, "we are having a meeting at the fraternity, but we might come down afterward, unless we are kept too late."