XVI

JINNIE EXPLAINS THE DEATH CHAIR TO BOBBIE

Seven days had dragged their seemingly slow length from seconds to
minutes, from minutes to hours, from hours to days. In the cobbler's
shop Jinnie and Bobbie waited in breathless anxiety for Peg's return.
She had gone to the district attorney for permission to visit her
husband in his cell. Nearly three hours had passed since her
departure, and few other thoughts were in the mind of the girl save
the passionate wish for news of her two beloved friends. She was
standing by the window looking out upon the tracks, and as a heavy
train steamed past she counted the cars with melancholy rhythm. There
came to her mind the day she had found Bobbie on the hill, and all the
sweet moments since when the cobbler had been with them. She choked
back a sob that made a little noise in her tightened throat.

Bobbie stumbled his unseeing way to her and shoved a small, cold hand
into hers.

"Jinnie's sad," he murmured. "Bobbie's stars're blinkin' out."

Mrs. Grandoken and Jinnie had come to an understanding that Bobbie
should not know of the cobbler's trouble, so the strong fingers closed
over the little ones, but the girl did not speak. At length she caught
a glimpse of Peg, who, with bent head, was stumbling across the
tracks. Peggy had failed in her mission! Jinnie knew it because the
woman did not look up as she came within sight of the house.

As Mrs. Grandoken entered slowly, Jinnie turned to her.

"You didn't see him?" she said in a tone half exclamation, half
question.

"No," responded Peg, wearily, sitting down. "I waited 'most two hours
for the lawyer, an' when he come, I begged harder'n anything, but it
didn't do no good. He says I can't see my man for a long time. I guess
they're tryin' to make him confess he killed Maudlin."

Jinnie's hand clutched frantically at the other's arm. Both women had
forgotten the presence of the blind child.

"He wouldn't do that," cried Jinnie, panic-stricken. "A man can't own
up to doing a thing he didn't do."

"Course not," whispered Bobbie, in an awed whisper, and the girl sat
down, drawing him to her lap. She could no longer guard her tongue nor
hide her feelings. She took the afternoon paper from Mrs. Grandoken's
hand.

"Read about it aloud," implored the woman.

"It says," began Jinnie, "Mr. King's dying."

The paper fluttered from her hand, and she sat like a small graven
image. To see those words so cruelly set in black