Ben Letts scratched his head tentatively. "She ain't had no bringin' up," he resumed, again plying the sharp-bladed knife to his scaly victims, "and they do say as how when she air in a tantrum she'll scratch her dad's face, jumpin' on his back like a cat. Orn air a fool, I say." "So says I too," agreed Brewer; "no wonder his shoulders air humped. But you never hears as much as a grunt from him. He knows he ain't never give her no bringin's up, that's why." "Some folks has give their kids bringin's up," interposed Ben Letts with a glance at the third man, who was industriously cleaning fish and had not yet spoken. "And they hain't turned out no better than Tessibel will." At this the industrious one turned. "I spose ye be a hittin' at my poor Myry, Ben," he muttered. "I spose ye be, but God'll some time let me kill the man, and then ye won't be hittin' at her no more, 'cause there won't be nothin' to hit at. It air dum hard to keep a girl from the wrong way, love her all ye will." For an instant Ben Letts dropped his head. "We always wondered who he was, but more wonder has been goin' on why ye ain't made no offer to find the fellow." "Ain't had no time," said the desperate cleaner of fish; "had to get bread and beans, to say nothin' of bacon." "But why didn't ye send the brat to the workhouse?" asked Jake. "Satisfied" Longman, as he was called, shook his head. "I was satisfied to let it stay," was all he answered. "My old mammy says," offered Ben Letts, "as how yer son Ezy asked Tessibel Skinner to marry him and as how she slicked him in the face with a dirty dishrag." He slowly closed the scarlet lids over his crossed eyes, suspending the pickerel in his hand the while. "Tess ain't had no mother," remonstrated Longman, after a long silence, pausing a moment in his bloody work and allowing his eyes to rest upon the magnificent buildings of the University, rearing above the town, "and Myry says that them what has ought to be satisfied." Just then a shadow fell upon the shore of the lake near the fishermen. "There air Tess now," muttered Letts and his two companions eyed a figure clad in rags, with flying copper-colored hair and bare dirty feet, which dropped down beside Longman without asking whether or no. "Cleanin' fish?" she queried. "Can't ye see?" growled Ben. "'Course I can," she answered; "just wondered if ye knowed yerselves." "Where be yer dad?" queried Longman, smiling as he caught up two long fish, depositing one beside him where it flopped helplessly about upon the hot sand. "Gone to Ithacy," replied Tessibel, and without change of expression or color caught the floundering fish in her dirty fingers. "I air a hittin' the little devil on the head with a stone," said she, and with a pointed rock she expertly tapped the fish three times behind the beady eyes and threw him down again motionless.