Peg ceased writhing, but didn’t lift her face. Jinnie knew she was listening, and continued:
“Haven’t you heard him many a time, when there wasn’t any wood in the house or any bread to eat, tell you about—about––”
Down dropped the woman’s hands, and she lifted a woebegone face to her young questioner.
“Yes, I’ve heard him, Jinnie,” she quavered, “but I ain’t never believed it!”
“But you can, Peggy! You can, sure! Lots of times Lafe’d say, ‘Now, Jinnie, watch God and me!’ And I watched, and sure right on the minute came the money.” She paused a moment, ruminating. “That money we got the day he went away came because he prayed for it.”
The girl was reverently earnest.
“Lafe’s got a chance, all right,” she pursued, keeping Peg’s eye. “More’n a chance, if—if—if––Oh, Peggy, we’ve got to pray!”
“I don’t know how,” said Peg, in stifled tones.
Jinnie’s face lighted with a mental argument Lafe had 257 thrown at her in her moments of distrust. She was deep in despondency, but something had to be done.
“Peg, you don’t need to know anything about it. I didn’t when I came here. Lafe says––”