“Cobbler, oh, dear good Lafe,” cried the girl, “the dog’s living! Peg says I can keep ’im, and I’m goin’ to fiddle for him to-night. Do you think he’ll forget all about his hurt if I do that, Lafe?”

At that moment, shamed that she had given in to the importunate Jinnie, Mrs. Grandoken opened the shop door, shoving the half wet dog inside.

“Here’s your pup, kid,” she growled, “an’ y’d best keep him from under my feet if you don’t want him stepped on.”

The cobbler smiled his slow, sweet smile.

“Peg’s heart’s bigger’n this house,” he murmured. “Bring him here, lassie.”

The girl, dog in arms, stood at the cobbler’s side.

“What’re you goin’ to name him?” asked Lafe, tenderly.

“I dunno, but he’s awful happy, now he’s going to stay with us.”

“Call ’im ‘Happy Pete’,” said the cobbler, smiling, “an’ we’ll take ’im into our club; shall we, kid?”

So Happy Pete was gathered that day into the bosom of the “Happy in Spite.”

89

CHAPTER XI

WHAT HAPPENED TO JINNIE

With a sigh Jinnie allowed Lafe to buckle the shortwood strap to her shoulder. Oh, how many days she had gone through a similar operation with a similar little sigh!

It was a trying ordeal, that of collecting and selling kindling wood, for the men of Paradise Road took the best of the shortwood to be found in the nearer swamp and marsh lands, and oftentimes it was nearly noon before the girl would begin her sale.

But the one real happiness of her days lay in dropping the pennies she earned into Peg’s hand.

Now Peggy didn’t believe in spoiling men or children, but one morning, as she tied a scarf about Jinnie’s neck, she arranged the black curls with more than usual tenderness.

Pausing at the door and looking back 

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