The paper fluttered from her hand, and she sat like a small graven image. To see those words so cruelly set in black and white, staring at her with frightful truth, harrowed the very soul of her. A sobbing outburst from Bobbie mingled with the soft chug, chug of the engine outside on the track. Happy Pete, too, felt the tragedy in the air. He wriggled nearer his young mistress and rested his pointed nose on one of her knees, while his twinkling yellow eyes demanded, in their eloquent way, to know the cause of his loved ones’ sorrow.
Peggy broke a painful pause.
“Everybody in town says Lafe done it,” she groaned, “an’––” she caught her breath. “Oh, God! it seems I can’t stand it much longer!” 255
Jinnie got up, putting the limp boy in her chair. She was making a masterful effort to be brave, to restrain the rush of emotion demanding utterance. Some beating thing in her side ached as if it were about to burst. But she stood still until Peg spoke again.
“It’s all bad business, Jinnie! an’ I can’t see no help comin’ from anywhere.”
If Peg’s head hadn’t fallen suddenly into her hands, perhaps Jinnie wouldn’t have collapsed just then. As it was, her knees gave way, and she fell forward beside the cobbler’s wife. Bobbie, in his helpless way, knelt too.
Since Lafe’s arrest the girl had not prayed, nor could she recall the promises Lafe had taught her were made for the troubled in spirit. Could she now say anything to make Peg’s suffering less, even if she did not believe it all herself?
“Peg,” she pleaded, “don’t shiver so!... Hold up your head.... I want to tell you something.”
Peggy made a negative gesture.
“It ain’t to be bore, Jinnie,” she moaned hoarsely.