Orn Skinner was to be taken to prison the Monday after the famous sermon preached by Dominie Graves. Professor Young had gained permission for Tessibel to spend fifteen minutes with Skinner before his departure. There was something about the fishermaid that touched his heart. Her ignorance, her devotion to her father, and the loveliness of the anxious young face haunted the professor during his working hours, and at night, when he could not sleep, he created plans for her future and her father's release. He persuaded himself continually that Tessibel was not the motive for clearing the fisherman of the murder charge, it was the love of justice--justice to the squatter and his lovely child. Often the lawyer had set his jaw when he thought of Minister Graves and the evident malice shown by the parson against the fisherman. That Monday afternoon he met Tessibel as she came into the jail-yard, much the same Tessibel he had seen in the court-room. Professor Young took the girl's hand in his and led her into the small waiting room of the stone prison. He desired to be alone with her for a few minutes that he might satisfy himself as to her history, which since her dramatic entrance into the court-room had been so distorted. "You have no mother, I understand, my dear," he began. "Nope," and Tessibel shifted one boot along the seam in the red carpet. "Do you remember her?" "Nope; don't remember none but Daddy." "Have you ever been to school?" Tessibel shook her head, displaying her teeth in smile which quickly faded. "Squatter's brats don't never go to school," she muttered. She edged away from the professor, raising her eyes pleadingly to his. The man read the desire the girl dared not put into words, but without heeding her glance he proceeded to question her. "Would you like to go to school?" "Nope, all I want air Daddy home in the shanty. That air enough for me." She suddenly turned her face away toward the door that led to the upper cells. "But if I assure you," urged Professor Young, "that your father will positively get another trial, which is all that can be done at present, would you then like to study?" A definite shake of her head and another quick glance was Tessibel's answer. "I wants to read the Bible," she said, presently turning toward the professor; "it air a dum hard book to read, I hear." Professor Young tugged at the corners of his mustache to keep down a smile. "It would be easy for you to read any book if you went to school," he told her. "How old are you?" "Comin' sixteen." "And cannot read--it's a pity! And wouldn't you like to learn to sing?" Young was desirous of touching a responsive strain in the girl. "Dum sight rather see Daddy--that's what I came here for! Ain't ye going to let me see him?"