"I knowed the old man who was murdered--young Eb's father. Made some stir in town when he got shot!"
"Eb's been home quite a while now," observed Tess thoughtfully.
Longman's head and shoulders moved several times in affirmation.
"So ma read out'n the paper," he then said, "an' Bishop's lit out from the coop, too, ain't he?... Funny how he done it!... Bigger men'n him stay there all their days.... They'll find 'im, though, them prison folks will, poor little duffer!"
Tess caught the sympathy in the squatter's voice.
"I air hopin' they don't," she sighed quickly.
An inquisitive, almost furtive expression shot into the fisherman's face.
"When ye goin' to git married, Tess?" he hesitated.
Tessibel shook her red curls, flushing.
"Oh, I ain't knowin' jest the time yet," she parried. "Ye know, 'Satisfied,'--"
"Don't ye ever see much of the student nowadays, eh?" the squatter cut in.
Because of its sudden palpitation, Tess laid her hand over her heart.
Oh, if she could only tell her old friend that that very night she'd belong to Frederick forever! Passion leapt alive into her eyes, and her cheeks flushed.
"I air a lovin' him, 'Satisfied,'" she murmured.
Longman made a nervous movement with one hand and shook his head.
"Tess, I been goin' to tell ye somethin' fer a long time," he stammered, almost inaudibly. "Ye won't git miffed with a old friend, will ye?"
"Sure not, 'Satisfied'," asserted Tess, gently.
"It air 'bout Student Graves," explained Longman.
A glint of gold flashed from under her lowered lids and a slow, deep scarlet ran in waves upward from her chin.
"What 'bout the student?" she demanded, dropping again to the bench and placing the basket at her feet.
The squatter looked down. It was hard to say what he must with the young face so confidently questioning.
"He air a goin' round with a nuther girl," he barked presently. "I been hearin' an' so air ma--"
Tessibel rose, startled, and once more took up the basket. Some gossiping tongue had been reviling her dear one.
"It air a big lie, 'Satisfied'," she uttered breathlessly. "I don't want to hear nothin' against 'im uther. What tongue told ye that only wanted to make ye feel sad fer me." She paused, then turned, but whirled back.
"When ye love a person an' love 'im hard, lies told about 'im don't set well. Ye know they don't, Daddy Longman."
"Sure, I know it," replied the squatter, in quick-spoken sympathy. "Only ma and me thought as how ye ought to know the things we heard."
Tess was standing rigid, gazing stormily defiant into the weather-beaten old face. Wasn't she going to be married to the student that night! And how many, many times Frederick had told her he loved but her; that no other woman could ever take her place!
"I ain't goin' to believe it, if the hull hellish world tells me so,"
she flashed forth tempestuously. "Now I air goin' to give the bread to Mammy Longman, 'Satisfied'."
Longman stayed her with a word.
"Ye ain't mad at me, brat, be ye?"
Tess stretched forth impetuous fingers.
"Nope, only I love the student, that air all! An', 'Satisfied,' I air a cussed brat to be swearin' when Frederick says as how it air wicked. I keep forgettin' when I git mad."
The squatter sighed, making a quick shake of his head and several weird clicks with his tongue. Moodily he watched the bounding youthful figure until it disappeared through the shanty doorway. Fully ten minutes passed before Tess reappeared.
"Ma were satisfied with the bread, eh, brat?" asked Longman, in a cuddling tone. "Ain't she likin' it, honey?"
Tessibel choked suddenly. There was something in the quavering tones of the old fisherman, of the lonely, bereaved old man, that saddened her loving heart. She went to him and touched him impulsively.
"Yep, she liked it, 'Satisfied'," she murmured, "an' I told 'er all about the singin' in Heaven. She hadn't thought Ben Letts might be there with Myry an' the brat.... Most folks ain't knowin' how awful long the forgivin' arm of Jesus air."
And kissing the old squatter once more, Tessibel started homeward.
CHAPTER VI
WALDSTRICKER MAKES A PROPOSAL
While Tess was making her call at Longman's, Helen Young was entertaining her fiance, Ebenezer Waldstricker.
"I shall never be satisfied until Bishop is back in Auburn, Helen," said he, snipping the end from a long cigar.
The girl held up her needle and deftly shot the thread through the eye of it.
"He's sure to be, dear," she soothed. "Here's Deforrest!" She hesitated, laid down her work and stood up.
Professor Young shook hands with Waldstricker as his sister went to his side smilingly.
"Ebenezer wants me to go down to Skinner's with him," she explained.
"Won't you come along, too, Forrie?"
The lawyer threw an interrogative glance at the churchman.
"Certainly," he answered. "Why? Anything particular?"
The question was asked of Waldstricker, who lifted his shoulder with a long breath.