Rose O'Paradise

Turning around in his chair, Lafe looked up at the men.

"Could--I--say--good-bye--to my--wife?" he asked brokenly.

"Where is she?" demanded the officer.

"Gone to the store," answered Lafe. "She'll be here in a minute."

"Let 'er come to the jail," snapped the angry sheriff. "She'll have plenty of time to say good-bye there."

At that they tugged the chair through the narrow door. Then two boards were found upon which to roll it into the patrol.

Inside the shop Jinnie was quiet now, save for the convulsions that rent her body. She looked up at the man holding her.

"Let me go," she implored. "I'll be good, awful good."

Perhaps it was the pleading blue eyes that made the officer release her arms. Jinnie sprang to the door, and as Lafe saw her, he smiled, oh such a smile! The girl ran madly to him.

"Lafe! Lafe!" she screamed. "Lafe dear!"

Lafe bent, touched the shining black curls, and a glorified expression spread over his face.

"He's given His angels charge over you, lass," he murmured, "an' it's a fact you're not to forget."

Then they rolled him up the planks and into the wagon. With clouded eyes Jinnie watched the black patrol bowl along toward the bridge, and as it halted a moment on Paradise Road to allow an engine to pass, the cobbler leaned far out of his wheel chair and waved a thin white hand at her. Then like a deer she ran ahead until she came within speaking distance of him. The engine passed with a shrieking whistle, and the horses received a sharp crack and galloped off. Jinnie flung out her arms.

"Lafe!" she screamed. "I'll stay with Peg till you come."

He heard the words, waved once more, and the wagon disappeared over the bridge.

For full ten minutes after Lafe was taken away, Jinnie sat in the shop like one turned to stone. The thing that roused her was the side door opening and shutting. She got up quickly and went into the little hall, closing the shop door behind her. Mrs. Grandoken, with bundles in her hands, was entering the kitchen. Jinnie staggered after her.

"Peggy," murmured Jinnie, throwing her arms about the stooped shoulders. "You'll be good----"

It was as if she had said it to Bobbie, tenderly, low-pitched, and imploring. Peg seemed so miserable and thin.

"What's the matter with you, kid?" growled Mrs. Grandoken.

"The town folks," groaned Jinnie, "the town folks've made a mistake, an awful mistake."

Mrs. Grandoken turned sunken eyes upon the speaker.

"What mistake've they made?"

Jinnie's throat hurt so she couldn't say any more.