"Nope, I ain't never goin' to marry nobody!" "Yep, ye will, when ye gets done bein' a baby!" Tess drew her eyes from the dozing infant and glanced at Myra. "I wants a Bible," said she deliberately. "What for?" "To read out of!" "Can ye read?" "Nope, not much, but I can spell out words, and write a bit. And the Bible says as how, if ye seeks, ye'll find what ye seeks." The shining eyes were sending a truthful message into the heart of the young mother. "That ain't nothin' to do with Ben Letts," muttered Myra. "Yep, it air," insisted Tess. "It says what ye seeks ye find. Ain't ye seekin' Ben Letts?" "I knows where he air already," sullenly replied Myra. "But ye can seek his lovin's, can't ye?... I's a seekin' Daddy--and somethin' else." "What?" "To be readin' and writin' like--like the minister's gal does. I air a-seekin' it every day!" "How?" Tess flushed. She could not tell Myra of the long bearded God in the pine tree, nor of the stumbling prayers she had repeated night after night. Myra understood that she could sing, so Tess said laconically: "I sings for it sometimes, and that air a seekin'." Myra grunted. "I can't sing," and she frowned. The babe whined in the cradle and Tessibel took him up. The glorious voice hushed the child to sleep, Myra Longman bitterly scanning the beautiful face. There were only two years between her and Tessibel, and her own poor, ghastly wrinkled face looked years older. If she were only pretty, Ben might love her. Tess had the splendid vigor of healthy youth--Myra, the worn-out complexion of a bad digestion. Beans and bacon had made the one beautiful--and destroyed the other. Suddenly Myra leaned over with a new expression in her eyes. "Tessibel, I tries to seek Ben Letts and his lovin's for me and the brat." Tessibel placed the small boy in the box, then she and Myra obeyed Mrs. Longman's fretful demand that they draw up and eat. CHAPTER XV That evening Minister Graves came blustering in after his family were seated at the table. What was this ridiculous thing that he had heard? His home disgraced, his position ruined, his children ostracized. He glanced at Teola and Frederick. His wife, fastening Babe's napkin under the child's chin, remonstrated. "Why, father, what's the trouble?" "I was making a clerical call on Mrs. Robman to-day," fumed the Dominie, "and that girl of hers, and a saucy one she is, too, burst into the room, and, mother, what tale do you think she told--before us?" Frederick glanced at his sister, but Teola's eyes were upon her empty plate. Mrs. Graves shook her head. "That that Skinner girl came here last night and in all her rags and filth drank coffee from our daughter's cup! Madame, did you ever imagine that such a disgrace could fall upon you?" Mrs. Graves looked helplessly from her husband's distorted face to her son and daughter.