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Updated: June 5, 2025
Her cap had fallen from her head, loosing the glorious curls, and her breath whistled past the stem of Lafe's white flower like night wind past a taut wire. Jinnie forgot everything but the delight of earning something for her loved ones something that would bring a caress from Lafe. She was sure of Lafe, very sure! As voices called "Faster!" and still "Faster!"
"I wouldn't make such a fuss over no one livin'. That's just what I wouldn't." She threw the last remark over her shoulder as if it were something she spurned and wanted to be rid of. Bobbie slipped from Lafe's arms and described a zigzag course across the kitchen floor toward the place where Mrs. Grandoken stood. His hands fluttered over Peg's dress, as high as they could reach.
"I thought I'd never cry again as long as I lived," she whispered, "but but I guess it's your loving me that's done it." It came like a small confession as a relief to the overburdened little soul. "I guess I've rode a hundred miles to get here," she went on, half sobbing, "and you're awful glad to see me, ain't you?" It didn't need Lafe's, "You bet your boots," to satisfy Jinnie.
"Bobbie, Bobbie," she panted, "get down quick!" The boy slid to the plank, dropping Happy Pete. Jinnie grasped the child's cold hand in hers, and they ran rapidly to a thick clump of trees. Once out of sight of the building, she picked up the little dog and sank down, clutching Bobbie close to her heart. The beginning of the second day of Lafe's trial brought a large crowd to the courthouse.
She only remembered Lafe's sad face and Bobbie's sharp, agonizing calling of her name. "I want to speak to Mr. King," she said in answer to a strange voice at the other end of the wire. Her voice was so low that a sharp reply came back. "Who'd you want?" "Theodore King." She waited a minute and then another voice, a voice she knew and loved, said, "This is Mr. King!"
He and Bobbie had gone away together. She touched the corner of the envelope to the candle, watching it roll over in a brown curl as it burned. "He's happy now," she murmured. "He's got his baby and Lafe's angels." Then she gathered up the handful of ashes, opened the window, and threw them out. The hands of the night wind snatched them as they fell and carried them swiftly away through the rain.
Jinnie had gained much knowledge in the last few hours. She had discovered the mystery of all existence. She had seen Peg go down into that wonderful valley of life and bring back Lafe's little boy baby, and the girl's eyes held an expression of impenetrable things. She moved her position slightly so as to study Mrs. Grandoken's face. Suddenly Peg's eyes lowered.
Lafe uttered an inarticulate cry, and at that moment Jinnie forgot "Happy in Spite," forgot Lafe's angels and the glory of them, and sprang like a tiger at the man who had struck her. She flung one arm about his neck and fought him with tooth and nails. So surprised was Policeman Burns that he stood with staring eyes, making no move to rescue his mate from the tigerish girl. "Damn you!
Jinnie's little form was huddled against the counter, the shortwood scattered around her, and from her forehead blood was oozing. On the slender arm was the ring of sausage and between her set teeth was Lafe's pale rose. With her outraged soul shining in her eyes, Peggy gathered the unconscious girl in her two strong arms.
She had only again taken Bobbie close when there came to her Lafe's old, old words: "He hath given his angels charge over thee." "Bobbie," she said softly, "I'm going to play for you." As Jinnie straightened his limp little body out on the divan, she noticed how very thin he had become, how his heart throbbed continually, how the agonized lines drew and pursed the sensitive, delicate mouth.
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