CHAPTER IX
BY THE SWEAT OF HER BROW
Over the bridge into Paradise Road went the lithe, buoyant figure of agirl, a loose strap hanging from one straight shoulder. Jinnie wasradiantly happy, for her first day had netted the family twenty cents,and if Paradise Road had been covered with eggs, she would not havebroken many in her flight homeward. If she had been more used to Mrs.Grandoken, she would have understood the peculiar tightening at thecorners of the woman's thin lips when she delivered the preciouspittance. Virginia searched the other's face for the least sign ofapprobation. She wished Peg would kiss her, but, of course, she darednot suggest it. To have a little show of affection seemed to Jinniejust then the most desirable thing in the world, but the cobbler'swife merely muttered as she went away to the kitchen, and Virginia,sighing, sat down.
"Now suppose you tell me all about it, Jinnie," Lafe suggestedsmilingly; "just where you went an' how you earned all the money."
Fatigued almost beyond the point of rehearsing her experiences, Jinnietook Milly Ann on her lap and curled up in the chair.
"I guess I've walked fifteen miles," she began. "You know most folksdon't want wood."
Lafe took one sidewise glance at the beautiful face. He remembered apicture he had once seen of an angel. Jinnie's face was like thatpicture.
"Well, first, Lafe," she recounted, "I gathered the wood in the marsh,then I went straight across the back field through the swamp. It'sfroze over harder'n hell----"
Lafe uttered a little, "Sh!" and Jinnie, with scarlet face,supplemented,
"I mean harder'n _anything_."
"Sure," replied Lafe, nodding.
"Mr. Bates and his kids were there, but he c'n carry a pile threetimes bigger'n I can!"
"Well, you're only a child. Sometimes Bates can't sell all he gets,though."
"I sold all mine," asserted Jinnie, brightening.
The cobbler recalled the history of Jinnie's lonely little life--ofhow during those first fifteen years no kindly soul had given hercounsel, and now his heart glowed with thanksgiving as he realizedthat she was growing in faith and womanliness. He wanted Jinnie togive credit where credit was due, so he said,
"You sold your wood because you had a helpin' hand."
Jinnie was about to protest.
"I mean----" breathed Lafe.
"Oh, angels! Eh?" interrupted the girl. "Yes, I sold my last twocents' worth by saying what you told me--'He gives His angels chargeover thee'--and, zip! a woman bought the last bundle and gave me acent more'n I charged her."
"Good!" Lafe was highly pleased. "It'll work every time, an' to make along story short, it works on boots an' shoes, too."
"Wood's awful heavy," Jinnie decided, irrelevantly.
"Sure," soothed Lafe again. He hesitated a minute, drew his handacross his eyes, and continued, "An', by the way, Jinnie----"
Jinnie's receptive face caused the cobbler to proceed:
"I wouldn't have nothin' to do with Bates' son Maudlin, if I wasyou.... He's a bad lot."
Jinnie's head drooped. She flushed to her hair.
"I saw him to-day," she replied. "He's got wicked eyes. I hate boyswho wink!"
A look of desperation clouded the fair young face, and the cobbler,looking at the slender girlish figure, and thinking the while ofMaudlin Bates, suddenly put out his hand.
"Come here, lassie," he said.
Another flame of color mounted to Jinnie's tousled hair. With hanginghead, she pushed Milly Ann from her lap and walked to the cobbler'sside.
"What did Maudlin say to you?" he demanded.
"He said he'd--he'd crack my twigs for me if--if I'd kiss him, and hepinched me when I wouldn't."
Anger and deep resentment displayed themselves on Lafe's pale face.
"Jinnie, lass," he breathed. "I c'n trust you, child. Can't I trustyou? You wouldn't----"
Jinnie drew away from Lafe's embrace.
"I guess I'd rather be killed'n have Maudlin kiss me," she criedpassionately.
Just then Peg came to the door.
"Run to the butcher's for a bit of chopped steak, Jinnie," sheordered, "an' make your head save your heels by bringin' in somebread."
Jinnie jumped up quickly.
"Please use some of my money to buy 'em, Peggy," she begged. "Oh,please do."
Peggy eyed her sternly.
"Kid," she warned. "I want to tell you something before you go anyfarther in life. You may be smart, but 'tain't no credit to you,'cause you didn't make yourself. I'm tellin' you this for fear makin'so much money'll turn your head.... Here's your ten cents.... Now goalong."
After Jinnie had gone, Mrs. Grandoken sat down opposite her husband.
"The girl looks awful tired," she offered, after a moment's silence.
"She's been earnin' her livin' by the sweat of her brow," repliedLafe, with a wan smile.
"Mebbe she'll get used to it," growled Peg. "Of course I don't likeher, but I don't want her hurt. 'Twon't make her sick, will it?"
"No, she's as strong as a little ox. She's got enough strength in herbody to work ten times harder, but Peg----" Here Lafe stopped andlooked out to the hill beyond the tracks, "but, Peggy, perhaps we c'nfind her somethin' else after a while, when there ain't so much fearof her uncle. To make a long story short, Peg, danger of him's theonly thing that'll keep the kid luggin' wood."
"I was wonderin'," returned Peg, "if we couldn't get some oneinterested in 'er--the Kings, mebbe. They're a good sort, with lots ofmoney, an' are more'n smart."
Lafe's eyes brightened visibly, but saddened again. He shook hishead.
"We can't get the Kings 'cause I read in the paper last night they'regone away West, to be gone for a year or more.... It's a good idea,though. Some one'll turn up, sure."
"When they do, my man," Peg said quickly, "don't be takin' any creditto yourself, 'cause you hadn't ought to take credit for the plannin'your sharp brains do."
As he shook his head, smiling, she left him quickly and shut thedoor.