Over and over, as Lafe listened, he wondered where and how such music could be born in the child--for Jinnie, to the lame cobbler, would always be a little, little girl.

Later Jinnie went to the store, and when Peggy had watched her cross the street, she sat down in front of her husband.

"Lafe," she said, "what's the kid goin' to wear to King's?... She can't go in them clothes she's got on."

Lafe looked up, startled.

"Sure 'nough; I never thought of that," he answered. "An' I don't believe she has uther."

It was the cobbler who spoke to Jinnie about it.

"I suppose you hain't thought what you're going to wear Sunday night?"

Jinnie whirled around upon him.

"Oh, Lafe!" she faltered, sitting down quickly.

"Peggy 'lowed you'd forgotten that part of it."

"I did, Lafe; I did! Oh, I don't know what to do!"

"I wisht I had somethin' for you, Jinnie dear," breathed Bobbie, touching her hand.

Jinnie's only response was to put her fingers on the child's head--her eyes still on the cobbler.

"What did Peggy say, Lafe?"

"Nothin', only you couldn't go in the clothes you got."

Jinnie changed her position that she might see to better advantage the plain little dress she was wearing.

"But I've got to go, Lafe; oh, I've got to!" she insisted. "Mr. King wants me.... Please, Lafe, please!"

"Call Peggy, Bobbie," said Lafe, in answer to Jinnie's impetuous speech.

Bobbie felt his way to the door, and Peggy came in answer to the child's call.

"I only thought of the twenty-five dollars and the fiddling, Peggy," said Jinnie as Mrs. Grandoken rolled her hands in her apron and sat down. "Did you say I couldn't go in these clothes?"

"I did; I sure did. You can't go in them clothes, an' what you're goin' to wear is more'n I can make out. I'll have to think.... Just let me alone for a little while."

It was after Jinnie had gone to bed with Bobbie that Peg spoke about it again to Lafe.

"I've only got one thing I could rig her a dress out of," she said. "I don't want to do it because I hate her so! If I hated her any worse, I'd bust!"

The cobbler raised his hand, making a gesture of denial.

"Peggy, dear, you don't hate the poor little lass."

"Yes, I do," said Peg. "I hate everybody in the world but you.... Everybody but you, Lafe."

"What'd you think might make a dress for 'er?" asked Grandoken presently.

Before answering, Peg brought her feet together and looked down at her toes. "There's them lace curtains ma give me when she died," she said. "Them that's wrapped up in paper on the shelf."




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