The next day, while Frederick was studying over the problems relating to his engagement to Madelene Waldstricker, Tessibel Skinner was sitting with Helen Young on the veranda of the latter's home. The young squatter girl was receiving a lesson in sewing.
"It air goin' to be pretty, ain't it?" she asked, holding up a blue chambray dress.
"Yes, very," replied Helen. "You're doing nicely. I'm very proud of you, dear!"
A shadow crept into Tessibel's eyes.
"I'll be a missin' ye awful after--after--"
"But you may come as often as you like to--our--home after we're married," said Helen, affectionately. "Mr. Waldstricker will soon grow fond of you, too, and the distance is only a little over a mile, short cut."
"But you'll be so rich," sighed Tess, "an' mebbe'll be awful busy."
"Never too busy to see my friends," Helen smiled. "There! Now you've been sewing an hour.... Let me hear you read.... By the way, I meant to tell you last night's paper said they're trailing the man who killed Mr. Waldstricker's father down here. The offer of five thousand dollars' reward is stirring a lot of men to hunt for him."
"I thought as how they'd lost 'im, sure," remarked Tess, inwardly quaking.
She forced her voice to say this in a tone as nearly natural as possible.
"Yes, I think the paper says they did lose track of him," replied Helen, "but they've suddenly found his trail again.... He must be somewhere near here. A deputy warden by the name of Burnett is coming to Ithaca.... Mr. Waldstricker will be very much pleased if they find him."
Tessibel's questioning gaze prompted Helen to proceed.
"The paper says, too, the men up there in Auburn are pretty sure he's somewhere among his own people."
A scarlet wave dyed Tessibel's face, and then receded. Her eyes drew down a little at the corners.
"Ye mean 'mong the squatters, don't ye?" she queried sharply. "Squatters air jest as good as any one else, Miss Young."
"Well, now, dear, I didn't mean they weren't," Helen laughed pleasantly; "and I'm sure if they're all like you, Tessibel, they're very nice indeed."
The memory of Teola Graves, the small, sickly baby, and the sudden death of Minister Graves passed through Tessibel's mind. The promise to her of the deed to the land on which their shanty stood was also in that procession of ghosts belonging to the past.
"Daddy and me was goin' to own our hut ground," she confided thoughtfully, "but--but--the dominie died afore we got it--so we air squatters yet jest the same as the rest. Squatters be awful nice folks! Most of 'em air better'n me."