"Won't ye take me home now?" murmured Tess. "It air late an' Daddy'll be worried." "We'll start at once," promised Frederick tenderly, leading her down the steps. * * * * * Daddy Skinner heard the horse coming down the hill, heard Frederick as he said his low, "Good-night, my darling," and unbarring the door, the fisherman waited impatiently for his daughter to enter the shanty. One glance and he stretched out his hand. "Ye're sick, brat," he stammered. "Be ye sick, my pretty?" Dropping her eyes, Tessibel shook her head. "Nope, I ain't sick," she faltered. "But--but--" She wanted to throw herself upon her father's broad shielding breast and sob out her joy. But she couldn't do that so she stood hesitantly, her lips quivering. "I air wantin' to be hugged in yer arms, Daddy Skinner," she told him. "Tell yer brat ye love her awful much." And according to his custom in his daughter's sentimental moments, the fisherman, after dropping the door-bar, seated himself in the wooden rocking-chair, and held out his arms. "I were just a sayin' to Andy, I wished ye'd come home," said he. "Love ye, kid?... I love ye better'n all the world, and everythin' in it.... Well! If my pretty brat ain't cryin'.... Sandy ain't been chasin' ye, has he?" "Mebbe she air been a fightin' with her beau," piped the dwarf, from the ceiling. The girl's mind traveled back through the events of the evening. "Nope, I didn't fight with 'im, Andy," she smiled through her tears. Daddy Skinner's beard rubbed lovingly over the dishevelled curly head. "There! There! My little 'un!" he singsonged. "I'll rock my babe a bit. Ye stayed out too late, I air a thinkin'." Oh, to tell him everything that had happened in the past few hours. But she had promised Frederick, and Tessibel would rather have died of grief than betray her trust. She put her lips close to the fisherman's ear. "I air lovin' the student, Daddy," she whispered. "I didn't see Sandy tonight. I jest been with Frederick." The squatter's only answer was to press her lovingly to him and for a long time he swayed back and forth slowly. Suddenly he ceased rocking. "Ye'd best git to bed, baby," said he. "Crawl back, Andy, and let the brat undress." Andy's shining face disappeared with a "Good night, brat," and "Good night, old horse." The father and daughter heard him settle himself on the straw tick, and soon all was quiet above. And later by half an hour, Tessibel was dreaming of the young husband who that day had opened a new world to her, who had led her from girlhood into the immensity of womanhood. CHAPTER IX THE MUSICALE