Andy Bishop was stretched out in the middle of Tessibel's straw tick, while the girl measured her length on the cot to assure her father that the dwarf would be fully concealed from prying eyes.
"Does he seem all hid, Daddy Skinner?" queried she.
The squatter walked to the head of the cot and peered from all points of vantage.
"He sure air, kid," he chuckled. "I can't see nothin' but a row of red curls a mile long. Andy'll git back in the garret all right if Burnett don't pull you off'n that bed."
"He won't do that," said Tess. "Jesus'll see I stay on it, I bet."
"There's some un a comin' now," hissed Skinner between his teeth, startled. Tess had no more than cuddled under the blanket when a loud knock resounded throughout the shanty. Daddy Skinner lifted the bar and opened the door, his large form filling the narrow door-frame. At the sight of Sandy Letts' smiling face, he stepped back, relieved.
"God, Sandy," he grinned, "ye might as well kill a man as scare him to death. Come in an' set."
Lysander stepped into the kitchen, and his eyes fell upon Tess.
"What air the matter with the brat?" he asked, looking from Orn to the girl lying there so languidly.
"She air kind a hurt—" began the fisherman.