"Yes," she admitted, but that was all. She felt that to tell the truth
then would be fatal to the throbbing young life in her arms.

"Bobbie," she whispered, cuddling him. "Lafe's coming home soon. Be a
good boy and lie still and rest. Jinnie'll come back in a few
minutes."

She crawled off the bed, and went to the shop door. By main force she
had to drag her unwilling feet over the threshold. She stood for two
tense minutes scanning the room with pathetic keenness. Then she
walked forward and stood beside the bench. It seemed to be sentiently
alive with the magnetism of the man who had lately occupied it. Jinnie
sat on it, a cry bursting from her white lips. She wanted to be with
him, but she had promised to take care of Peggy, and she would rather
die than betray that trust. Her eyes fell upon two dark spots upon the
floor, one near the door and one almost under her feet. 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. The
flickering flame brought back keenly the hours she had spent with
Lafe--hours in which she had learned so much. The whole horror that
had fallen on the household rushed over her being like a tidal wave
over a city. Misery of the most exquisite kind was tearing her heart
in pieces, stabbing her throat with long, forklike pains. Tense throat
muscles caught and clung together, choking back her breath until she
lay down, full length, upon the cobbler's bench.

In poignant grief she thought of the expression of Lafe's face when he
had been wheeled from the room. His voice came back through the faint
light.

"He has given His angels charge over thee, lassie."

But how could she believe in the angels, with Lafe in prison and
Theodore dying? She got up, spent and worn with weeping, and went in
to Peggy, sitting for a few minutes beside the agonized woman, but she
could not say one word to make that agony less. In losing the two
strong friends, she had lost her faith too. Peg's face was turned to
the wall, and as she didn't answer when the girl laid her hand on her
shoulder, Jinnie tiptoed out. In her own room she lay for seemingly
century-long hours with Bobbie pressed tightly to her breast.

CHAPTER XX