Raising the red head, she tore long threads of hair loose from the briars, and, drawing the masses of curls about her shoulders, broke into the opening of the forest. Some one was crying, and any sign of suffering brought an immediate response from Tess. It might be Myra, or it might be some little lost child. Spurred on by sympathy, she bounded over a bed of dead chestnut burrs, waded through the water to the other side of the creek, and struggled up the rocks. Teola Graves, crouched in an attitude of suffering and despair, was seated on the gnarled root of a huge tree. Tessibel watched her for an instant. Here was a holy personage to the squatter, touched with the finger of the mysterious God the student worshiped. And was she not the sister of Frederick, and had not Teola given her coffee from her own cup that winter night? Tessibel had not spoken to the minister's daughter since her father had been taken away to Auburn, and some of the intensity Tess had felt upon that one great day of her life came back to her as she stood hesitant, watching the student's sister. Perhaps the girl was weeping for some pleasure denied her--perhaps for a jewel to wear about her neck. She went forward impulsively, and laid her hand upon the rounded shoulder. "What be ye blattin' over?" she stammered, with a tinge of awe in her voice. Teola struggled to her feet, suppressing her grief. The question stopped the flow of tears, and the two girls, so differently situated, the one the daughter of an eminent minister, and the other a squatter, wonderingly eyed each other. "I thought I was alone," was Teola's answer. "So ye was," replied Tess. "I heard ye cryin' from the lower ledge of the rocks. What air the matter?" Infinite pity and tenderness in the coarse words, spoken in a sweet, persuasive voice, brought a fresh burst of tears from Teola. "I'm--I'm ill to-day." "Ye'll be all right to-morry.... 'T'ain't much, air it?" "It is very much to me," whispered Teola. "I'm so lonely, and so afraid!" Tessibel sat silently down beside the other girl, twining one arm about the twisted root of the tree. She was used to sorrow, used to watching the agony of human souls without hope. A bird in the top of the tree above them sent a plaintive note into the hot air. Another answered from the forest, and Tessibel raised her head and saw a scarlet bird take wing and disappear into the branches of the wood trees. She waited for Teola to speak, but at last, seeing there was no cessation of tears, she leaned over and touched her. "Be ye lonely for yer ma?" she murmured. Teola shook her head in the negative. "Then for yer pa?" "No!"