"I s'pose they be gittin' up somethin' fer Christmas, an' I ought to go an' tell 'em I can't sing. I said as how I would over three months ago if Miss Waldstricker'd help me; but I can't.... Will ye look after Daddy while I air gone, Andy?"
"Sure," agreed the dwarf. "I'll slide under his bed an' talk the pains right out o' 'im."
"I wish the meetin' was in the mornin'," Tess sighed. "It gits dark so early, an' Mr. Young ain't home! He'd come an' git me an' bring me back if he were. It air a long walk," and she sighed again.
"Mebbe 'twon't be so cold tomorrow as it air today," cheered Andy and they lapsed into silence.
CHAPTER XXVI
The Churching
The dawning of Wednesday brought one of those drab days so frequent in the lake-country. The daylight, dim even at high noon, hardly suggested a possible sun shining anywhere. Misty sheets of stinging ice-particles drove from the northern skyline to the hill south of Ithaca.
The snow crunched sharply under Tessibel's feet as she picked her way from the shanty to the lane. Kennedy's brindle bull, leaping and barking, invited her to a frolic. The girl called the dog to her, and petted him.