Peg watched her without comment as Lafe fitted the strap about her shoulders. In fact, there was nothing for the woman to say, when the violet eyes were fixed questioningly upon her. Peggy thought of the hunger which would be bound to come if any hands were idle, so she muttered in excuse, “There’s nothin’ like gettin’ used to a thing.”
“It’s a fine strap, isn’t it, Lafe?” asked the girl, “It’s almost as good as a cart.”
“You can’t use a cart in the underbrush,” explained Lafe. “That’s why the twig gatherers use straps.”
“I see,” murmured Jinnie.
When the cobbler and girl were once more alone together, they had a serious confab. They decided that every penny Jinnie brought in should go to enriching the house, and the girl’s eyes glistened as she heard the shoemaker list over the things that would make them comfortable.
Most delightful thoughts came to endow the girl’s mental world, which now reached from the cobbler’s shop to the marsh, over a portion of the city, and back again. It 78 was rosy-hued, bright, sparkling with the pennies and nickels she intended to earn. All her glory would come with the aid of that twig gatherer’s leather strap. She looked down upon it with a proud toss of her head. Jinnie was recovering the independent spirit which had dominated her when she had wandered alone on the hills away to the north.
“I wouldn’t wonder if I’d make fifteen cents some days,” she remarked later at the supper table.
“If you make ten, you’ll be doin’ well, an’ you and Lafe’ll probably bust open with joy if you do,” snapped Peg. “Oh, Lord, I’m gettin’ sick to my stomick hearin’ you folks brag. Go to bed now, kid, if you’re to work to-morrow.”
Jinnie fell asleep to dream that her hand was full of pennies, and her pockets running over with nickels. She was just stooping to pick up some money from the sidewalk when Peg’s voice pierced her ear,
“Kid,” said she, “it’s mornin’, an’ your first workin’ day. Now hurry your lazy bones an’ get dressed.”