"Miss Tessibel Skinner: "It is necessary for you to attend a church meeting next Wednesday afternoon at three o'clock in the chapel. Please oblige, "SILANDER GRIGGS, _Pastor_." "Anything much?" demanded the dwarf, interestedly. "Nope, Andy, only a note askin' me to come to church tomorrow afternoon, but I jest can't go, Andy!... I can't! I ain't been fer two Sundays, now, 'cause I been feelin' so bad." She raised her eyes full of misery to meet Andy's sympathetic gaze. How could she go after that awful scene nearly three weeks before with Madelene and Frederick? She never could face the Waldstricker family again. "I won't never go to church, ever any more," she mourned presently. "Mebbe not, dear," returned the dwarf, smothered in his throat. "An' the church'll be worser off'n you!" Troubled in spirit, Tess considered the letter a few minutes. "I s'pose they be gittin' up somethin' fer Christmas, an' I ought to go an' tell 'em I can't sing. I said as how I would over three months ago if Miss Waldstricker'd help me; but I can't.... Will ye look after Daddy while I air gone, Andy?" "Sure," agreed the dwarf. "I'll slide under his bed an' talk the pains right out o' 'im." "I wish the meetin' was in the mornin'," Tess sighed. "It gits dark so early, an' Mr. Young ain't home! He'd come an' git me an' bring me back if he were. It air a long walk," and she sighed again. "Mebbe 'twon't be so cold tomorrow as it air today," cheered Andy and they lapsed into silence. CHAPTER XXVI THE CHURCHING The dawning of Wednesday brought one of those drab days so frequent in the lake-country. The daylight, dim even at high noon, hardly suggested a possible sun shining anywhere. Misty sheets of stinging ice-particles drove from the northern skyline to the hill south of Ithaca. The snow crunched sharply under Tessibel's feet as she picked her way from the shanty to the lane. Kennedy's brindle bull, leaping and barking, invited her to a frolic. The girl called the dog to her, and petted him. "No, no, Pete, Tess ain't able to run an' play with ye any more," she told him, sadly, "but ye can go with me to Hayt's." Nuzzling her hand, the great dog walked soberly by her side, as though he understood. Tess shivered a little as the frost-laden air bit nippingly at her ears. The winter birds between her and the lake lifted their wings and mounted against the wind, some driving in flocks, others now and then by twos and threes. Tess followed their flight through the storm.... How strong and happy they seemed! For an instant she paused at the gate in front of Deforrest Young's empty house. The snow had drifted until the path could no longer be discerned. A little twinge of loneliness touched Tessibel's heart. Her friend would not be at the church that day.