Love stories; Poor -- Fiction; Violinists -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Was that what made your tears, Lafe?"
Her eyes glistened as she uttered the question.
Lafe nodded.
"And what made Bobbie cry so loud?"
"Yes."
"Was Mr. King here?"
"Sure," said Peg.
"And he said I was to go away to school, eh?"
"Yes," repeated Peg, "an' of course you'll go."
Jinnie went forward and placed a slender hand on Lafe's shoulder. Then
she faced Mrs. Grandoken.
"Didn't you both know me well enough to tell him I wouldn't go for
anything in the world?"
If a bomb had been placed under Mrs. Grandoken's chair, she wouldn't
have jumped up any more quickly, and she flung out of the door before
Jinnie could stop her. Then the girl wound her arms about the
cobbler's neck.
"I wouldn't leave you, dear, not for any school on earth," she
whispered. "Now I'm going to tell Mr. King so."
Jinnie sped along Paradise Road and into the nearest drug store. It
took her a few minutes to find Theodore's number, and when she took
off the receiver, she had not the remotest idea how to word her
refusal. She only remembered Lafe's sad face and Bobbie's sharp,
agonizing calling of her name.
"I want to speak to Mr. King," she said in answer to a strange voice
at the other end of the wire.
Her voice was so low that a sharp reply came back.
"Who'd you want?"
"Theodore King."
She waited a minute and then another voice, a voice she knew and
loved, said,
"This is Mr. King!"
"I'm Jinnie Grandoken," Theodore heard. "I wanted to tell you I
wouldn't go away from home ever; no, never! I wouldn't; I couldn't!"
"Don't you want to study?" Mr. King asked eagerly.
Jinnie shook her head as if she were face to face with him.
"I'm studying all the time," she said brokenly, "and I can't go away
now. If they couldn't spare me one day, they couldn't all the time."
"Then I suppose that settles it," was the reluctant reply. "I hoped
you'd be pleased, but never mind! I'll see you very soon."
"I told him!" said Jinnie, facing the cobbler. "Now, Lafe, don't ever
think I'm going away, because I'm not. I've got some plans of my own
for us all when I'm eighteen. Till then I stay right here."
At dinner Peg cut off a very large piece of meat and flung it on
Jinnie's plate.
"I suppose you're plumin' yourself because you didn't go to school;
but you needn't, 'cause nothin' could drag you from this shop, an'
there's my word for it." Then she glanced at Lafe, and ended, "If 'er
leg was nailed to your bench, she wouldn't be any tighter here. Now
eat, all of you, an' keep your mouths shut."
CHAPTER XXIX
PEG'S VISIT
One morning Bobbie sat down gravely some distance from Lafe, took up
one of Milly Ann's kittens, and fell into troubled thought. After
permitting him to be silent a few moments, the cobbler remarked,
"Anything on your mind, comrade?"
"Yes," said Bobbie, sighing.
"Can't you tell a feller what it is?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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