Daddy Skinner's beard rubbed lovingly over the dishevelled curly head.
"There! There! My little 'un!" he singsonged. "I'll rock my babe a bit. Ye stayed out too late, I air a thinkin'."
Oh, to tell him everything that had happened in the past few hours. But she had promised Frederick, and Tessibel would rather have died of grief than betray her trust. She put her lips close to the fisherman's ear.
"I air lovin' the student, Daddy," she whispered. "I didn't see Sandy tonight. I jest been with Frederick."
The squatter's only answer was to press her lovingly to him and for a long time he swayed back and forth slowly. Suddenly he ceased rocking.
"Ye'd best git to bed, baby," said he. "Crawl back, Andy, and let the brat undress."
Andy's shining face disappeared with a "Good night, brat," and "Good night, old horse."
The father and daughter heard him settle himself on the straw tick, and soon all was quiet above. And later by half an hour, Tessibel was dreaming of the young husband who that day had opened a new world to her, who had led her from girlhood into the immensity of womanhood.