“I was a big fellow then, kid, with fine, strong legs, an’ nights, when I’d come home, I’d carry the little chap about.”
The cobbler’s eyes glistened with the memory, but shadowed almost instantly. 64
“But one day––” he hesitated.
The pause brought an exclamation from the girl.
“And one day—what?” she demanded.
“He died; that’s all,” and Lafe gazed unseeingly at the snow-covered tracks.
“And you buried him?” asked Virginia, softly.
“Yes, an’ the fault was mostly mine, Jinnie. I ain’t had no way to make it up to Peggy, but there’s lots of to-morrows.”
“You’ll make her happy then?” ejaculated the girl.
“Yes,” said Lafe, “an’ I might a done it then, but I wouldn’t listen to the voices.”