"You're very sick," she murmured. "Poor man, I'm sorry!"
Bennet kept his watery eyes on the pleading young face.
"Yep, I'm sick enough," he muttered.
"What can I do for you?" asked Tess. "Can't I do anything to make you feel easier?"
"Nope," was the answer. "I'll be dead, soon. Mebbe, I'll get out time nuff to die."
Then, Tessibel did forget Andy. And, even, Deforrest and the baby left her mind. She stretched forth her hand and touched the man's arm.
"Would you like me to sing to you, a little?"
Bennet bobbed his head.
"I like singin'," he mumbled.
In a low voice, Tessibel began to sing; nor did she take her hand from the thin arm lying inertly on the sheet.