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Updated: June 5, 2025
She would beg for the cobbler's life, beg as she had never begged before. "Please, please, listen," she implored, throwing out her hands. "You must! You must! Lafe's always been so good. Won't you let him live?... I'll tell him about your wanting the money.... You shall have it!
She shuddered as she realized it was blood. Then she went to the kitchen for water and washed it away. This done, she gathered up Lafe's tools, reverently kissing each one as she laid it in the box under the bench. How lonely the shop looked in the gathering gloom! To dissipate the lengthening shadows in the corners, she lighted the lamp.
He was as much one of them as Lafe's baby or herself. Neither did she speak of the boy's pitiful condition. In spite of Jinnie's absolute refusal, Molly went on: "But you don't understand. You've got your own life to think of!" Jinnie burst in with what she thought was a clinching triumph. "I take lessons on my fiddle every day. Some time I hope " Molly's eyes gleamed again.
He remembered that, steadily of late, he had grown to detest the whole child-world because of his own sorrow, and nodded acquiescence, supplementing the nod with a harsh: "And, by God, I'm going to have it, too!" "Then let me go back to Lafe's shop. I'll give you every cent I have.... I won't even ask for a dollar." It took some time for Morse to digest this idea; then he slowly shook his head.
Then she played and played and played, and ever in her heart to the rhythm of her music were the words, "His angels shall have charge over thee." Suddenly there came to her a great belief that out of her faith and Lafe's faith would come Bobbie's good, and Peg's good, and especially the good of the man shut up in the little cell. When the boy grew sleepy, Jinnie made him ready for bed.
It's all my fault, Bob." "Isn't there any way to get hold of him? A crazy man could see that his best friend couldn't beg it out of him, and that he wouldn't spare any of us; but don't you know of some bludgeon we could hang up over him?" "Nothing. It's up to Gorgett." "Well," said Bob, "Lafe's mighty smart, but it looks like God-help-Gorgett now!"
Farmer Perkins, more jealous of his reputation for shrewdness than of his soul's salvation, would point to Lafe and say, knowingly: "He's a bad one, that boy is; look at them eyes." And surely, if Lafe's soul-windows mirrored the color of his mental state, he was indeed in a bad way. In like manner Farmer Perkins judged old Kate's unhandsome colt.
"Lafe's in right where he kin git the most the quickest." "Run out and git him to step up here," said Scattergood. In half an hour Lafe Siggins, tall, bony, long, and solemn of face, stepped into the room, and closed the door after him cautiously. "Howdy, Scattergood!" he said. "Howdy, Lafe!... Want your backin' for a pop'lar measure. I've up and invented a new way of taxin' a railroad."
Bobbie stood alongside Lafe's bench, one busy set of fingers picking rhythmically at the cobbler's coat, the other having sought and found his hand. "I want to be in the club, cobbler," he whispered. Mr. Grandoken stooped and kissed the quivering face. "An' you'll be happy in spite a havin' no eyes?" he questioned. The little boy, pressing his cheek against the man's arm, cooed in delight.
I've been studying a lot since I left Mottville.... Why sometimes " she resumed eagerly, "when we haven't had enough to eat, Lafe's made me buy a book to study out of, and I promised him I'd stay with his family till he came back. And " she walked to the edge of the porch, turning suddenly, "and he's coming back, all right," she ended, going down the stairs.
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