His insistence drew forth a tearful confession.
"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."
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.