“I want to see Lafe Grandoken,” she said.
To surprise Lafe she crept softly along the corridor until she halted at his cell door. She could see him plainly, and the troubled lines were almost erased from between his 272 brows. She was glad of that, for she wanted him to smile, to be “Happy in Spite.”
She called his name and he turned, wheeling toward her.
“I hoped you’d be comin’,” he said, smiling gravely. Then noting the shortwood, he exclaimed, “Have you had to go to work again, lass?”
“Just for to-day,” and Jinnie displayed her white teeth in a broad smile. “I’ve brought you something, Lafe, and I wrapped it up in shortwood.”
The girl carefully slipped the strap from her shoulders and sat down beside it on the floor. Watching eagerly, Lafe peered between the bars, for surely his Peggy had sent him some token of her love. The girl paused and looked up.
“Shut your eyes tight, Lafe,” she commanded playfully.
Lafe closed his eyes, wrinkling down his lids. Then Jinnie lifted the baby and uncovered the small face. The little chap opened his eyes and yawned as the girl held him close to the bars.
“Now, Lafe, quick! Look! Ha! It’s a Jew!”
The cobbler’s eyes flew open, and he was staring squarely into a small, rosy, open-eyed baby face. For a moment he thought he was dreaming—dreaming a dream he had dreamed every night since the thunder storm. He caught at his chin to stay the chattering of his teeth.