“Here, huzzy, you needn’t be tryin’ none of your muck on me,” said Burns. “Keep still or I’ll break your arm.”
Jinnie sickened with pain, and her eyes sought Lafe’s. If he’d been in his coffin, he couldn’t have been whiter. 245
“Jinnie,” he chided brokenly, “you’ve forgot what I told you, ain’t you, lass?”
Through the suffering, tender mind flashed the words he’d taught her.
“There aren’t any angels, Lafe,” she sobbed. “There aren’t any.”
Then, as another man entered the shop, she cried: “Don’t take ’im, oh, please don’t take ’im, not now, not just yet, not till Peggy gets back.”
Turning around in his chair, Lafe looked up at the men.
“Could—I—say—good-bye—to my—wife?” he asked brokenly.
“Where is she?” demanded the officer.
“Gone to the store,” answered Lafe. “She’ll be here in a minute.”