“Kisses ’re sweeter’n roses,” she murmured, walking to the track. “I wish I’d get more of ’em.”
She turned back as she heard Peg’s voice calling her.
“You might toddle in an’ bring home a bit of sausage,” said the woman, indifferently, “an’ five cents’ worth of chopped steak.”
Mrs. Grandoken watched Jinnie until she turned the corner. She felt a strangling sensation in her throat. 91
A little later she flung the kitchen utensils from place to place, and otherwise acted so ugly and out of temper that, had Lafe known the whole incident, he would have smiled knowingly at the far-off hill and held his peace.
Late in the afternoon Jinnie counted seventeen pennies, one dime and a nickel. It was a fortune for any girl to make, and what was better yet, buckled to her young shoulders in the shortwood strap was almost her next day’s supply. As she replaced the money in her pocket and walked toward the market, she murmured gravely,
“Mebbe Peg’s kisses helped me to get it, but—but I musn’t forget Lafe’s prayers.”
Her smile was radiant and self-possessed. She was one of the world’s workers and loved Lafe and Peg and the world with her whole honest young heart.
“Thirty-two cents,” she whispered. “That’s a pile of money. I wish I could buy Lafe a posy. He does love ’em so, and he can’t get out like Peg and me to see beautiful things.”
She stopped before a window where brilliant blossoms were exhibited. Ever since she began to work, one of the desires of Jinnie’s soul had been to purchase a flower. As she scrutinized the scarlet and white carnations, the deep red roses, and the twining green vines, she murmured.