"Yep," whispered Tess. "Mother Moll air gone."
"I heard 'er when she went," said Andy, and he slipped down the ladder.
The babe's shrill cry continued as the dwarf went to the bed.
"Yer daddy don't need ye as much as me an' the little feller. Let me take 'im—I ain't seen 'im yet, ye know."
Andy bent over the cot. Gently he lifted the infant and carried him nearer the lamp's dim rays. He stood gazing intently into the rosy face. Then, he raised a tiny hand and spread first one finger, then each baby fellow out in his own palm.
"Why he's real handsome," he decided at last. "Brat, he air the most beautifulest in the world!"
At the last words he turned shining eyes toward Tessibel. She lay gazing, not at Andy or the babe in his arms, but up into and beyond the nets in the rafters, seeking another glimpse of her father's dear face. Alarmed by her strange silence, the little man bore his precious burden back to the cot and knelt beside the passive figure. Holding the baby close, he breathed,
"Don't, brat, dear! Look at me. I been feelin' yer daddy round all day, too. He'll always be near to help you an' the little kid."
A pathetic trembling of her lips hushed the flow of his words.
"It seems's if I couldn't live, Andy. I dunno how I can, I dunno how!"