“Somehow things seem easier, Peggy, when you hold your head up high, and believe everything’ll come all right.... Lafe said so; that’s why he started the club.”
“I wisht I could think that way. I’m near dead,” groaned the woman.
Jinnie smoothed the soft, grey-streaked hair.
“Wouldn’t you like to come into the club, dear?” she faltered, scarcely daring to put the question. “Then you’ll be happy with us all—with Lafe and Bobbie and—and––”
Jinnie wanted to say another name, but doubted its wisdom—and then abruptly it came; “and Jinnie,” she finished.
Peggy almost sat up in bed.
“Darlin’,” she quivered. “Darlin’ girl, I’ve been cussed 267 mean to Lafe an’ you. I’ve told you many a time with my own mouth I hated you, but God knows, an’ Lafe knows, I loved you the minute I set eyes on you.” She dropped back on the pillow and continued, “If you’ll take me in your club, an’ learn me how to believe, I’ll try; I swear I will.”
For a long time Jinnie sat crooning over and over the verses she’d learned from Lafe, and bye-and-bye she heard Peg breathing regularly and knew she slept. Then she settled herself in the chair, and sweet, mysterious dreams came to her through the storm.