"Your father said you were here, child," Young said in a low voice. "May I sit down?"
Tess acquiesced by a nod of her head, and he settled himself comfortably on the rock. Crouching down on the other side of her, Pete put his head in the girl's lap. Her hands rested upon his broad back, while the man played with him, pulling and poking his heavy jowls and hanging lips, and the dog uttered delighted growls at the attention.
"I'm afraid my little girl hasn't been quite well of late," Young began presently.
The red-brown eyes fell and a flushed, lovely face bent beneath a shower of bronze curls.
"Has she?" he queried again, with tender sympathy.
Lower and lower bent the auburn head until the man could no longer see the troubled face.
"I knew there was something wrong with my little pupil," said he softly. "Now tell me about it."
"I can't," whispered Tessibel. "I ain't able."
Oh, if she only could! At that moment it seemed that all of her troubles would take wing if this thoughtful, solemn-eyed friend shared the burden of her heart. When she lifted her face again and repeated, "I can't tell," Deforrest Young placed his fingers under her chin and kept his eyes steadily upon her until the transparent lids drooped and the long lashes rested on her cheeks.
"Is it something you'll tell me some time?" he asked.