“It makes me happier’n anything!” he replied, cheerfully. “The wonderful part is I wouldn’t know about it if I hadn’t lost my legs. I’ll tell you about it, lass.”
Jinnie settled back contentedly.
“A long time ago,” began Mr. Grandoken, “God led a bunch of Jews out of a town where a king was torturin’ ’em––”
The listener’s eyes darkened in sympathy.
“They was made to do a lot of things that hurt ’em; their babies and women, too.”
Jinnie leaned forward and covered the horny hand with her slender fingers.
“Have you ever had any babies, Lafe?” she ventured.
A perceptible shadow crossed the man’s face.
“Yes,” said he hesitatingly. “Me and Peggy had a boy—a little fellow with curly hair—a Jew baby. Peggy always let me call him a Jew baby, though he was part Irish.”
“Oh!” gasped Jinnie, radiantly.