CHAPTER XII
WATCHING
There was absolute quiet in the home of the cobbler for over a week.The house hung heavy with gloom. Jinnie Grandoken was fighting aghastlier monster than even old Matty had created for her amusement.
Of course Jinnie didn't realize this, but two patient watchers knew,and so did a little black dog. To say that Lafe suffered, as Peggyrepeated over and over to him the story of Jinnie's loving act, wouldbe words of small import, and through the night hours, when thecobbler relieved his wife at the sick girl's bed, shapes black andforbidding rose before him, menacing the child he'd vowed to protect.
Could it be that Maudlin Bates had anything to do with Jinnie's fall?Even so, he was powerless to shield her from the young wood gatherer.A more perplexing problem had never faced his paternal soul. After hislittle son had gone away, there had been no child to love until--andnow as he looked at Jinnie, agony surged through him with the memoryof that other agony--for she might go to little Lafe.
There came again the stabbing pain born with Peg's tale of the dance.The white rose lay withered in the cobbler's bosom where it had beensince his girl had been carried to what the doctor said would in allprobability be her deathbed. It was on nights like this that deadmemories, with solemn mien, raced from their graves, haunting thelame man. Even Lafe's wonderful portion of faith had diminished duringthe past few days. He found himself praying mighty prayers that Jinniewould be spared, yet in mental bitterness visualizing her death. Oh,to keep yet a while within the confines of his life the child heloved!
"Let 'er stay, Lord dear, let my Rose o' Paradise stay," Lafe criedout into the shadowy night, time and time again.
Peggy came, as she often did, to wheel him away and order him to bed,but this evening Lafe told Peg he'd rather stay with Jinnie.
"She looks like death," he whispered unnerved.
"She is almost dead," replied the woman grimly.
The doctor entered with silent tread. Stealing to the bed, he put hishand on the girl's brow.
"She's better," he whispered, smilingly. "Look! Damp! Nothing could bea surer sign!"
"May the good God be praised!" moaned Lafe.
Jinnie stirred, lifted her heavy lids, and surveyed the room vacantly.Her glance passed over the medical man as if he were not within therange of her vision. She gazed at Lafe only, with but a faint glimmerof recognition, then on to Peg wavered the sunken blue eyes.
"Drink of water, Peggy dear," she whispered.
Mrs. Grandoken dropped the fluid into the open, parched mouth from aspoon; then she bent low to catch the stammering words:
"Did Lafe like the rose, Peggy, and did you get the ring of sausage?"
Peg glanced at the doctor, a question struggling to her lips, but shecould not frame the words.
"Tell her 'yes'," said the man under his breath.
"Lafe just doted on the flower, honey," acknowledged Peggy, bendingover the bed, "and I cooked all the sausage, an' we two et 'em. Theywas finer'n silk.... Now go to sleep; will you?"
"Sure," trembled Jinnie. "Put Happy Pete in my arms, dear."
Mrs. Grandoken looked once more at the doctor. He nodded his headslightly.
So with the dog clasped in her arms, Jinnie straightway fell asleep.
Then Peggy wheeled Lafe away to bed, and as she helped him from thechair, she said:
"I lied to her just now with my own mouth, Lafe. I told her we et themsausages. We couldn't eat 'em 'cause they was all mashed up an'covered with blood."
The cobbler's eyes searched the mottled face of the speaker.
"That kind of lies 're blessed by God in his Heaven, Peg," he breathedtenderly. "A lie lendin' a helpin' hand to a sick lass is better'nmost truths."
Before going to bed Peg peeped in at Jinnie. The girl still lay withher arm over the sleeping Pete, her eyes roving round the room. Shecaught sight of the silent woman, and a troubled line formed betweenher brows.
"How're you going to get money to live, Peggy?" she wailed. "I'm justbeginning to remember about the dance and getting hurt."
Peggy stood a moment at the foot of the bed.
"Lafe's got a whole pocket full o' money," she returned glibly.
"That's nice," sighed the girl in relief.
"Shut up now an' go to sleep! Lafe's got enough cash to last amonth."
And as the white lids drooped over the violet eyes, Peg Grandoken'sguardian angel registered another lie to her credit in the life-bookof her Heavenly Father.
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