"Your father." "His name, please?" "Do you not know? Has not Agnes told you all about it? She said she would." Tesney wore the ring, and renewed her hopes of getting something from the man whom she considered her father. That very afternoon a pony, hitched to a dogcart and driven by Tesney, became frightened and ran. To keep the two children behind her from jumping from the cart and receiving unnecessary bruises Tesney held them with one hand and gripped the lines with the other. However, the animal's wild flight was of short duration, for the man of Tesney's suspicion stopped the pony and led the now docile beast back to Mrs. Wakely's gate. As Tesney lifted the crying children from the cart he said: "Tesney, you are a good, brave girl. I was talking to Mrs. Wakely this morning about you. I gave her a ring for you. How do you like the present?" "Well, sir, well," answered Tesney. There were tears in her eyes, but the man did not see them. "Tesney," continued the man, "how would you like to live with me?" "Well, sir, well," answered Tesney. Mrs. Wakely now hurried from the house, having witnessed the misadventure of the ponycart. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Bankner, thank you!" she cried. "The children are all right, are they not? Tesney is a good, brave girl, isn't she?" "She is that, and more," replied the man, as he bowed and departed. Tesney wore the ring, remembered the invitation, and renewed her hopes. Three months from that day Tesney stood behind Aunt Agnes combing her hair while Agnes examined the ring. Agnes was about sixty years old, an ex-slave, a meddler, and liar. Her three hundred and fifty pounds kept her in her big arm-chair. There she made the coffee, beat the biscuits, abused the cook, lied to Mrs. Wakely, said the blessing, and urged all to live good Christian lives. She had nursed Tesney and knew her ancestry. She called Tesney her daughter, and wished her for a daughter-in-law. Tesney was fond of Agnes, but scorned her son, who was unfit for any woman. "Read, Aunt Agnes," said Tesney, "while I comb." "No; you jes' stop combin' an' read." Tesney read the inscription, and dropped a word about her suspicion. "Now, comb on, chile. Me! My! Whew! Stop, chile, stop! Dat comb's mighty fine. Whut dat you say 'bout dem ring-wuds an' dat big white man?" Tesney repeated the inscription and emphasized her suspicion. "Is dat so?" asked Agnes doubtfully. "Didn't you as good as say so, Aunt Agnes?" "Maybe I did, chile. Now, look heah, chile, is you gwine ter be my daughter-in-law?" "Aunt Agnes, it cannot be. You know your son is a bad man." "Yes, chile; but er bad man needs er good wife." "Thanks, Aunt Agnes; but it cannot be." "George, you triflin' rascal, come heah," Agnes called to her son. George entered and smiled at Tesney, who frowned and turned her back upon him. "Son," continued Agnes, "daughter says no. It's good 'nough. Go, you triflin' rascal, go." George went.