“Too dangerous,” he replied, and he went out without a glance at the blind boy on the divan.
Once more alone with Bobbie, Jinnie sat down to think. How could she rescue him from this awful position? How get him back to Peggy? Somehow she felt that if she could be sure the little boy was safe, she could go away to the place Morse had described with at least a little relief. That day Lafe’s accusers were to try him before a jury––. She had almost lost hope for the cobbler—he was lame, had no friends, and was a Jew, one of the hated race. She knew how the people of Bellaire despised the Jews. For Peggy she didn’t worry so much. Jordan Morse had given his solemn promise that, if Lafe died in the electric chair—and she died to the world—he would be of financial assistance to Peggy.
She sat studying Bobbie attentively. The child’s face was pathetically white and she could see the quick palpitation of his heart under his jacket.
“I heard what the black man said, Jinnie,” Bobbie blurted presently, sinking in a little heap. “I mean when he had you in the other room a little while ago. You was beggin’ him to help me; wasn’t you, Jinnie?”
Jinnie went to him quickly and gathered him into her arms.
“Bobbie,” she implored, “you must never let him know, never, never, that you heard him talking. He might hurt you worse than he has.”
Bobbie flashed his eyes questioningly in evident terror.
“What’d he hurt me more for? I ain’t done nothin’ to him.”
“I guess because he’s bad, dear,” said Jinnie sadly.
“Then if he’s bad, why do you stay here?” He clung to her tremulously. “Take me away, Jinnie!” 319