How many times had Daddy Skinner spoken of dying! How many times had she heard him agree with Andy that death was better than life any day! But at those times she had beaten back the muttered words of her father and the dwarf. Ah, in those days, death had been far away, kept off by happiness unsurpassed!
"It air hard fer some folks to die," wailed the fisherman. "An' so easy fer uthers. Me—now me—Oh, God, oh, brat-love, let me go! I hurt so! I hurt awful—let me go!"
The heart of the tortured, sobbing girl seemed to be bursting from its pain and suspense. Her beloved father wanted to go away—to follow the wraith mother beckoning from the rafters. How could she open her arms and allow him to leave her alone in the shanty!
"Help me, brat-love," sighed Daddy Skinner once more. "Help yer old sick daddy!"
Help him! How could she? Hitherto Tessibel's faith had loyally responded to every demand upon her. But she couldn't help her daddy die! She knew not how! Then, as if drawn by some invisible power, her eyes lifted, piercing the shadows among the time-dried nets. And there, for one small moment, she saw—she saw a face, a young, girlish face, infinitely sweet, smiling down upon her.
"It air the Mummy!" she cried, her voice vibrant with love. "I air goin' to help 'im, darlin'."
Buoyantly her mind gripped the old-time faith, the redoubtable faith that had opened wide Auburn Prison, that had restored to her arms this same adored father. She had helped him then—and oh, to help him now! His great cry, "God, Tessibel, let me be goin'!" rang in her ears. Her gaze was glued to his face. Terror and pain were strangling his throat until his eyes grew death-dark in the struggle. Tessibel lifted her ashen face, wildly working in entreaty. Oh, for a little faith! Faith the size of a grain of mustard seed! And Daddy Skinner would be gone to that place beyond the clouds and the blue, where suffering is not. Did he, could he, believe? Did she, could she, believe, too? Then in a blinding flash, she remembered the mysterious dawning of her own faith. Enduring sublime suffering, she bent once more and drew her father's heavy head to her breast.
"Daddy! Darlin' old, good Daddy, look at yer dear brat, an' listen to 'er."
"I air a listenin', my girl," he said between set teeth. She put her head directly in line with her father's vision.
"Look at me, Daddy," she craved tremulously, "an' listen to me. Can't ye remember how ye came back from Auburn like the innercent man ye were?"