"My child," and he bent lower that she might hear, for her bowed head was the only evidence of her grief, "Your prayers have accomplished more than you think. Keep on praying and pray hard, and the next time you come here you shall take home—your Daddy Skinner."
CHAPTER XII
Twenty young people had gathered for the toffy pull at Minister Graves'. Tess was the topic of conversation; every one was eager to talk of the unheard-of action in the court-room that day.
"My mother says," chimed in a pretty girl, "that when that Skinner girl walked up through the court room, she sounded like a horse trotting along."
"She had on a pair of man's boots, that's why," said another, "but she has a beautiful voice, hasn't she?"
This question was directed to Frederick Graves.
"Yes," he assented, flushing to his high-forehead line.
"And besides a beautiful voice," broke in Richard Hall, "she has a mighty pretty face—and such hair! If she hadn't been crying and had so many people around her, I should have spoken to her. She's worth consoling!"