One morning Bobbie sat down gravely some distance from Lafe, took up one of Milly Ann’s kittens, and fell into troubled thought. After permitting him to be silent a few moments, the cobbler remarked,

“Anything on your mind, comrade?”

“Yes,” said Bobbie, sighing.

“Can’t you tell a feller what it is?”

Bobbie pushed the kitten from his lap. He crept to the cobbler’s side slowly. Then, as he leaned his golden head against his friend, Lafe’s arm fell about him.

“Tell me, laddie,” insisted Mr. Grandoken.

“My stars’re all gone out,” faltered the boy sadly.

“What made ’em go out, Bob?... Can you tell?”

“Yes,” blubbered Bobbie. “I guess Jinnie’s sick, that’s what’s the matter.”

“Sick?” asked Lafe, in a startled voice. “Who said so?... Did she?”

Bobbie shook his head.

“No, but I know!... She cried last night, and other nights too.”

Lafe considered a moment.

“I’m glad you told me, Bob,” he said, knocking the ashes from his pipe.

Jinnie left the master’s home with lagging footsteps. The idea of going away to school had not appealed to her, 208 but never in all her life had she been so tempted to do anything as to go with Theodore for one blessed day in the country—but a whole day from home could not be thought of.

The cobbler saw her crossing the tracks, and after the daily salute, she came on with bent head. He watched her closely during the evening meal and gave Bobbie credit for discovering the truth. After Peg had wheeled him back to the shop and he was alone with Jinnie, Lafe called her to him.

“Bring the stool,” said he, “an’ sit here.”

Languidly she sank down, resting against him. She was very tired besides being very unhappy. Lafe placed two fingers under her chin, lifting her face to his. Her eyes were full of tears, and she no longer tried to conceal her suffering. The cobbler remained quiet while she cried softly. At last:

“It’s Maudlin Bates, ain’t it, darlin’?” he asked.

“No, Lafe.”

“Can’t you tell your friend what ’tis?”

“I guess I’m crying because I’m foolish, dear,” she replied.

“No, that’s not true, Jinnie. I feel as bad seeing you cry’s if ’twas Peggy.”

This was a compliment, and Jinnie tried to sit up bravely, but a friendly hand held her close.

“Just begin, an’ the rest’ll come easy,” Lafe insisted.

Jinnie’s tongue refused to talk, and of a sudden she grew ashamed and dropped her scarlet face.

“I don’t believe I can tell it, Lafe dear,” she got out.

“Something about a man?”

Jinnie nodded.

“Then I got to know! Tell me!” he directed.

His insistence drew forth a tearful confession. 209

“Before Mr. King spoke about the school, he asked me to go a day in the country with my fiddle, and I couldn’t.”

After the telling, she caught her breath and hid her face.

“Why?” Lafe demanded. “Why couldn’t you?”

Jinnie raised startled eyes to the cobbler’s for the better part of a minute. What did he mean? Was it possible––

“I thought you wouldn’t let me––”

“You didn’t ask me, did you, Jinnie?”

“No, because—because––”

“Because why?” Lafe intended to get at the root of the matter.

“Too long from the shop! Bobbie needs me,” replied Jinnie.

“I don’t think so, child.... The kid’d be all right with me and Peg.”

“Lafe?” cried Jinnie, standing up and throwing her arms around him.

“You ought to a told me when he spoke of it, Jinnie. I could a fixed it.”

The cobbler smiled, and then laughed.

Once more on the stool in front of him, Jinnie said:

“I’m afraid Mr. King was a little offended.”

“It would a done you a lot of good to get out in the fields––” chided Lafe.

“And the woods, Lafe. I’d taken my fiddle. He asked me to.”

“Sure,” replied Lafe.... “Call Peggy.”

Mrs. Grandoken, looking from one to the other, noticed Lafe’s gravity and signs of Jinnie’s tears.

“What’s the matter?” she inquired.

Lafe told her quietly, and finished with his hand on Jinnie’s head.

“Our little helper ought to have some fun, Peggy.” 210

Jinnie glanced up. What would Peggy think? But for a few minutes Peg didn’t tell them. Then she said:

“She ought a went, I think, Lafe.”

Jinnie got up so quickly that Happy Pete and Milly Ann stirred in their sleep.

“Oh, Peg, I do want to—but how can I, now I’ve said I wouldn’t?... How can I?”

“You can’t,” decided Peg gruffly, and Jinnie dropped down once more at Lafe’s feet.

“I guess you’ll have to forget about it, child, an’ be ‘Happy in Spite’,” said Lafe, with a sigh.

The next day Peggy took Lafe into her confidence.

“I think it could be did,” she ended, looking at her husband.

“Mebbe,” said Mr. Grandoken thoughtfully.

“I’ll do it,” snapped Peg, “but I hate ’er, an’ you can bang me if that ain’t a fact, but—but I’ll go, I said.”

About ten o’clock Peggy dressed and went out.

Theodore King was in his office, trying to keep his mind on a line of figures. Of late work palled on him. He sighed and leaned back thoughtfully, striking and touching a match to his cigar. Memories of blue-eyed Jinnie enveloped him in a mental maze. She stood radiant and beckoning, her exquisite face smiling into his at every turn.

He realized now how much he desired Jinnie Grandoken—and were she with him at that moment, life could offer him nothing half so sweet.

“I want her always,” he said grimly, aloud to himself.

A boy’s head appeared at the door.

“Woman to see you, sir,” said he.

“Who?”

“Mrs. Grandoken.”

“Show her in,” and Theodore stood up. 211

Peggy came in embarrassedly. She had a mission to perform which she very much disliked.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grandoken,” said Theodore, holding out his hand.

“Good morning, sir,” said Peg, flushing darkly.

Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. How could she state her errand to this dignified, handsome young man? He was looking at her questioningly; but that wasn’t all—he was smiling encouragingly also.

“Won’t you sit down?” said he.

Peggy coughed, smoothed her mouth with her hand, pulled the thin shawl more closely about her shoulders, and took the indicated seat. Taking no time to reflect on the best way to present her case, she blurted out,

“Lafe didn’t know till last night about your askin’ Jinnie to go for a holiday?”

“Oh!”

The man was at a loss to say more than that one word in question.

“No,” replied Peggy, “and she’s been cryin’––”

“Crying?” ejaculated Theodore. “Crying, you say?”

“Yes,” nodded Peggy.

“What’d she cry for?” asked Theodore. “She positively refused to go with me.”

“I know it, but she thought me an’ Lafe wouldn’t let ’er.”

Theodore moved uneasily about the office.

“And would you?” he asked presently.

“Sure,” responded Peggy, nodding vigorously. “Sure! Jinnie’s been workin’ awful hard for years, an’ Lafe’d like you to take ’er. But you musn’t tell ’er I come here.”

Saying this, Peggy rose to her feet. She had finished what she had come to say and was ready to go. Theodore King laughingly thanked her and shook her heartily 212 by the hand. Then he escorted her to the door, and she returned to Lafe a little less grim.

It was nearly noon when Jinnie left the master’s music room, carrying her fiddle box. Her teacher noticed she played with less spirit than usual, but had refrained from mentioning it.

She was coming down the steps when King’s car dashed up to the door. Her meetings with him were always unexpected and found her quite unprepared for the shock to her emotions.

“I’ve come to take you home, Jinnie,” said Theodore, jumping out.

Jinnie’s throat filled, and silently she allowed him to help her to the seat. They were in the flat of the town before he turned to her.

“I haven’t given up my plan to take you away for a day,” he said gently.

Jinnie gulped with joy. He was going to ask her again! Lafe and Peg had said she could go. She waited for him to proceed, which he did more gravely.

“When I make up my mind to do a thing, I generally do it. Now which day shall it be, Jinnie?”

“I guess I’ll have to let you tell,” whispered Jinnie, which whisper Theo caught despite the noise of the chugging motor.

“Then, to-morrow,” he decided, driving up to the cobbler’s shop. “I’ll come for you at nine o’clock.... Look at me, Jinnie.”

Slowly she dragged a pair of unfathomable blue eyes to his.

“We’re going to be happy for one whole beautiful day, Jinnie,” said he hoarsely.

He helped her out, and neither one spoke again. The motor started away, and the girl rushed into the shop. 213

Lafe had just said to Peggy, “There they be! He’s been after ’er!”

“Lafe, Lafe dear,” Jinnie gurgled. “I’m going with ’im to-morrow. All day with the birds and flowers! Oh, Peggy dear, I’m so happy!”

Mrs. Grandoken glared at her.

“Ugh! ’S if it matters to me whether you’re happy or not!”

Jinnie stooped and smothered Bobbie with caresses. With his arms tightly about her neck, he purred contentedly,

“My stars’re all shinin’ bright, Jinnie.”

“Kiss me, both of you kids!” was all Lafe said.