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Before Waldstricker could mount and ride back up the lane, Tess had picked up the boy from the snow where he had fallen. Without waiting an instant, she fled frantically toward the house. "Andy! Andy!" she screamed. Andy came downstairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. "Waldstricker's killed Boy!" gasped Tess. "Andy, get something.... Tell Mother Moll.... Some water!"
"Yep, that were me, but I didn't do no murder, brat; that air the main thing an' Sandy Letts lied when he told the jury I done it." "He said as how ye gunned Ebenezer Waldstricker's father, eh?" Tess interrupted. "Eb air the richest man in Ithaca, an' him an' his sister air been to Europe, but they come back early in the spring. I see 'em every Sunday at Hayt's when I go there to sing.
"An' if I did, I wouldn't give 'em to you. 'Tain't none of yer business if I get letters, I'll have ye know!" She took several backward steps toward the shanty. Her rising temper stirred up the impudence she used in her conflicts with the rude fishermen. "Jump on yer horse an' trot home," she finished tauntingly. Waldstricker's mingled surprise and anger showed in his exclamation.
"I'll put them in water right away." While she was arranging the flowers, Sandy got up. "How do ye like my new togs, kid?" he asked, pivoting around and around on one heel. "You look very nice," replied Tessibel, gathering courage from his good nature. "Ye bet I do," grinned Letts. "I air some guy when I air all flashed out in new things. Got all this with Waldstricker's money.
It might be he'd be able to rest in a chair before the log fire. Like the kindly eyes of a welcoming friend, the two great lights upon the posts of Waldstricker's gateway met Tessibel Skinner as she struggled between the tall stone pillars to the private driveway. In sheer fatigue, she allowed Elsie to slip to the snow and sank down beside her. Her heart sang with joy and thanksgiving.
Even the toads and bats knew her tender care. Waldstricker's child was to her, then, the most loathsome of breathing creatures. She might let the squatters kill her; she might even do it herself. But this was another thing! Face to face with the concrete case of pinching a baby's wrists, her instinct sent her fingers to the tight cords about the uplifted hands.
Helen's distraught manner prevented anything like a conventional welcome to her brother-in-law. After Frederick had expressed his sympathy for her anxiety about Elsie and tried to quiet her fears, Madelene carried him off to his room. When she had seen to the details for his comfort, she returned to the library to share Mrs. Waldstricker's vigil.
The sight of Young, holding the gun Waldstricker's money bought, told Sandy the whole story of his downfall. "Get up, Letts, and get out of here quick!" Young ordered, prodding him with his foot. Sandy scrambled to his feet unsteadily. "Now, take your hat and get out," said Young, "and don't stay in Ithaca, or I'll have you locked up again." Sandy didn't wait for any further advice.
Oh, do!" The old woman leaned heavily on her stick, tearless sobs shaking her emaciated frame. For a space of sixty seconds her watery, faded eyes stared into Waldstricker's flashing dark ones then she drew a long, convulsive breath. "It air like ye to hit the awful young an' the awful old," she shrilled at him, "but, 'twon't do ye no good.
Both were certain that somewhere up and beyond were the hands stronger'n Waldstricker's, but they'd hoped those pitying hands would have lifted them up before this. Still they clung to their faith and all the long ride from Ithaca had bolstered each other up with wan smiles and comforting promises. The business in the warden's office was simple and quickly dispatched.
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