"I wish my ankle wasn't wrapped up," she smiled hospitably. "I'd show ye 'round the shanty myself. Ye noticed the hedge when ye come in, didn't ye? Well--I planted that an' all the flowers--and this owl belongs to me an' I keep 'im in the garret,--an'--I almost got a dog once, but not quite! Job Kennedy owns 'im, an his name air Pete, but he likes to live here better'n he does to Job's." Tess gasped for breath and flushed rosily. "But I air keepin' ye, sir," she excused, "an I mustn't do that. You go on and look in Daddy Skinner's room an'--then ye go up in the garret, an' then ye can look behind the chairs an' behind the stove, an' ye can look under the bed--" She paused dramatically and held up a warning finger. "Please don't scare none of my bats nor my uther owls in the garret. They be awful nice bats an' awful nice owls too! Ye wouldn't hurt 'em, would ye, mister?" "I won't do anything you don't want me to, kid," the infatuated man promised. "Honest, I won't search the house if you say not." "Oh, sure, search it," insisted Tess. "Then ye'll be pretty sure there ain't nobody hidin' 'round." Burnett walked toward Daddy Skinner's room. "I wouldn't mind havin' a daughter like you," he vowed, looking back. "I got two nice boys to home, but I tell you a man misses a lot in the world, if he doesn't have a girl. Why, kiddie, I've had a better time in the past five minutes than I've had in the past five years." He paused, his hand on the latch of the door into Daddy Skinner's room. Tessibel gurgled and giggled, and giggled and gurgled, as if she hadn't a care in the world although she felt a paralyzing pain in her heart for the dwarf beneath her. Then she threw a mischievous glance into the man's face and offered, "While ye air searchin' the shanty, I'll sing to ye, huh?" "Now, can ye sing?" interrogated Burnett, smilingly. "Oh, Golly, sir, I been singin' since I weren't no bigger'n this owl," replied Tess. "I'll begin now." She knew Andy must be numb with fright and the weight of her body, and remembered how many times when he had been kept in the garret long periods together, while people were coming and going, and danger ran high, she had sung to him--it had soothed his pains, allayed his agony. So as Burnett disappeared from sight into the little back room, Tessibel began to sing the old, but ever newly encouraging song, "Rescue the Perishin'; Care for the Dyin'." And in the fleeting moment during which the officer from Auburn was searching Daddy's room, her hand went backward quickly and reassuring fingers touched the dwarf's face concealed by her curls, and still she sang, "Rescue the Perishin'; Care for the Dyin'." Then Tess felt Andy's body relax and heard the faintest possible sigh. When Burnett came forth unsuccessful but cheerful, her fingers were toying with her curls, and she broke off her song, question him with her eyes.