The Vigil

"Daddy air dead," she whispered.

"Yes, dear," soothed Young. "There, lean your head on my shoulder, poor little broken baby."

His tones were so tender, so soft! They went to the heart of the stricken dwarf, and like a hurt child he burst into tears. Professor Young turned and looked at him.

"Don't do that," he said huskily. "Sit down--don't cry!"

Without moving from her position, Tess said, "Andy, Andy, dear, git on up in the garret a few minutes, will ye?"

The dwarf crept to the ladder, and Deforrest let him go. A dozen questions leapt to the lawyer's lips at the same time, but the girl against his breast looked so desperately ill he had no heart to ply them. Tess lifted her lids heavily.

"Ye won't tell nobody he air here?" she gulped.

"How long has he been here?" asked Young, instead of answering her question.

"Ever since spring," sighed Tessibel.

"Was he here that day when Mr. Waldstricker and my sister--"

"Yep." The girl's whisper was very low.

"And when Burnett came too, I suppose?"

"Yep, I hid 'im ... Daddy loved 'im, Daddy did."

She began to cry softly. Her confession had taken her mind back to the huge figure on the bed.

"I wanted to go with Daddy," she sobbed. "I didn't know--I thought I couldn't live without 'im."

Stooping, Deforrest gathered the mourning little one into his arms, and seating himself in the big rocker, pressed his cheek against her hair in sympathy. Patiently he waited, holding her thus while the mercy of her flowing tears dulled the first sharp edge of her grief.