When the dinner was on the table, she grimly brought her husband’s wheel chair to the kitchen. Virginia, by the cobbler’s invitation, followed.
“Any money paid in to-day?” asked Peggy gruffly, drawing the cobbler to his place at the table.
“No,” he said, smiling up at her, “but there’ll be a lot to-morrow.... Is there some bread for––for Jinnie, too?”
Peggy replied by sticking her fork into a biscuit and pushing it off on Virginia’s plate with her finger.
Virginia acknowledged it with a shy upward glance. Peg’s stolid face and quick, insistent movements filled her with vague discomfort. If the woman had tempered her harsh, “Take it, kid,” with a smile, the little girl’s heart might have ached less.
Lafe nodded to her when his wife left the room for a moment.
“That biscuit’s Peg’s bite,” said he, “so she’ll bark a lot the rest of the day, but don’t you mind.”