“Come in, honey!... Come on in.” 126
She entered after one hasty glance proved the cobbler was alone.
“You sold quick to-day, lass,” said he, holding out his hand.
Jinnie had planned on the way home to make great rehearsing of Theodore King’s kindness, but in another instant she broke forth:
“Lafe, Lafe! I’ve got something to tell you! Oh, a lovely something! I sold all the wood to one man, and I’m going to take him a load every day, and get fifty cents for it. Regular customer, Lafe!... Here’s a dollar for Peg.”
Lafe did just what Jinnie expected he would, slipped an arm about her waist.
“The good God be praised!” he ejaculated. “Stand here an’ tell me all about it.”
“It was Mr. King––”
“Theodore King?” asked Lafe. “Why, he’s the richest man in town. He owns the iron works.”
Jinnie nodded. “Yes! He’s the one I played for in the train when I first came here. You remember my telling you, Lafe? And he wants wood every day from me. Isn’t it fine?”