“Yes, cobbler, I do now,” Jinnie answered, hanging her head. “Nobody but Matty ever told me nothing before. I guess she didn’t know much about angels, though.”

“Well,” continued Lafe, going back to his story, “God give his little boy Jesus to a mighty good man an’ a fine woman—as fine as Peg—to bring up. An’ Joseph trundled the little feller about just as I did my little Lafe, an’ bye-an’-bye when the boy grew, He worked as his Father in Heaven wanted him to. The good God helped Joseph an’ Mary to bring the Christ down face to face with us—Jews an’ Gentiles alike.”

“With you and me?” breathed Virginia, solemnly.

“With you an’ me, child,” repeated the cobbler in subdued tones.

Virginia walked to the window and drummed on the pane. Through mere force of habit the cobbler bent his head and caught the tacks between his teeth. He did it mechanically; he was thinking of the future. In the plan of events which Lafe had worked out for himself and Peg, there was but one helper, and each day some new demonstration came to make his faith the brighter. In the midst of his meditation, Jinnie returned to her seat.

“Cobbler, will you do something I ask you?”

“Sure,” assented Lafe.

“Get busy trusting Peg’ll get the two dollars to-night.”

“I have long ago, child, an’ she’s goin’ to get it, too. That’s one blessin’ about believin’. No one nor nobody can keep you from gettin’ what’s your own.” 69

69

“Mrs. Peggy doesn’t think that way,” remarked Virginia, with keen memories of Mrs. Grandoken’s snapping teeth.

“No, not yet, but I’m trustin’ she will. You see how ’tis in this shop. Folks is poor around here. I trust ’em all, Jews and Gentiles alike, but Peg thinks I ought to have the money the minute the work’s done. But I know no man can keep my money from me, so I soothe her down till she don’t whine any more. That’s how I know her bark’s worser’n her bite. Didn’t I tell you about the biscuit?”

“Yes,” replied Virginia, “and I hope it’ll only be bark about the money; what if she didn’t get it?”

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