Two days later, on Friday evening, Teola slipped quietly from her home, and the Skinner hut opened to her timid knock. Tess had no more fear when visitors came. Ben Letts had gone with Myra, and Ezra Longman was dead. The girls eyed each other for one embarrassed moment. The day for separation was at hand: Tess would face the lean winter, Teola the burden of a conscience in torment. "Come in," muttered Tess. "Tessibel," Teola burst out spontaneously, "we are going away to-morrow. I wish I were going to stay with you and the baby!" Gloomily Tess scrutinized the young mother, checking an ejaculation that rose to her lips. "I don't understand what you are going to do," said Teola. "Tess, do you think he is very ill? You do! I can see it in your face. Look how he yawns, and screws his mouth, and shuts his eyes! Oh, he is suffering, Tessibel!" "Yep, he air sick," replied Tess, turning her back. She had grown to love the hapless thing, and knew that he suffered as all human beings suffer when they go slowly away to the mystery of mysteries. Teola's next words brought her about sharply. "Tessibel, do you--hate me?" "Nope." "Oh, what a coward I am! Frederick has forbidden me to come here." "That air 'cause he air a good bloke," snorted Tess. "But if he knowed--" "I can't get my breath when I think of telling him, Tess." "He ain't to know never, then?" bounded from Tessibel's lips, the passion in the tones lowering the voice almost to a whisper. "No," replied the young mother; "I can't tell him." The squatter just caught the next words, "But I am going to die, too, Tess." The conviction in the statement made Tess spring back. "Ye ain't yet. Ye ain't goin' yet!" "The doctor says I am very ill here." Teola placed her hand upon her chest. "I've had three hemorrhages. People ill like I am never get well. I don't want to--either," she ended brokenly. She looked so forlorn, so thin and ill that Tess went awkwardly to her. "I takes care of the brat if ye goes before him," said she. "Thank you, dear," drifted from the depths of the child's box. "And forgive me all the sorrow I have caused you." "I has forgivin' ye," assured Tess, seating herself. "I were--sorry about the student, though." "I know, I know; and perhaps God won't forgive me, for I've been so wicked! I make up my mind every night, when I can't sleep, that I will tell; then in the daylight I am afraid." Tess did not answer. "I shall think every moment of the day about you two here. Oh, my precious baby! If I could only take him with me! That mark will never disappear," she concluded, rubbing the tiny red forehead with her fingers. "If he only goes when I do! God couldn't be so cruel as to let him live, with his face like that, and have neither father nor mother." "Nope," replied Tess with decision. "He'll take the brat, too." "Will he die soon, Tess?" "Yep." "Why do you think so? Why?"