"They can't!" denied Jinnie, rigidly. "They can't! Listen, Bobbie." The wan, unsmiling blind face brought the girl's lips hard upon it. "I want to know all about the death chair," he whimpered stubbornly. "Bobbie," she breathed, "will you believe me if I tell you about it?" "Yes," promised Bobbie, snuggling nearer. "Hang on to Pete, and I will tell you," said Jinnie. "I'm hangin' to 'im," sighed Bobbie, touching Pete's shaggy forelock. "Tell me about the chair." Jinnie was searching her brain for an argument to satisfy him. She wouldn't have lied for her own welfare--but for Bobbie--she could feel the weak, small heart palpitating against her arm. "Well, in the first place," she began deliberately, "Peg doesn't know everything about murders. Why, Bobbie, they don't do anything at all to men like Lafe. Why, a cobbler, dear, a cobbler could kill everybody in the whole world if he liked." Bobbie's breath was sent out in one long exclamation of wonder. "A cobbler," went on Jinnie impressively, "could steal loaves of bread right under a great judge's nose and he couldn't do anything to him." Jinnie had made a daring speech, such a splendid one; she wanted to believe it herself. "Tell me more," chirped Bobbie. "What about the death chair, Jinnie?" She had nursed the hope that the boy would be satisfied with what she had already told him, but she proceeded in triumphant tones: "Oh, you mean the chair Peg was speaking about, huh? Sure I know all about that.... There isn't anything I don't know about it.... I know more'n all the judges and preachers put together." A small, trustful smile appeared at the corners of Bobbie's mouth. "I know you do, Jinnie," he agreed. "Tell it to me." Jinnie pressed her lips on his hair. "And if I tell you, kiddie, you'll not cry any more or worry Peggy?" "I'll be awful good, and not cry once," promised the boy, settling himself expectantly. "Now, then, listen hard!" Accordingly, after a dramatic pause, to give stress to her next statement, she continued: "There isn't a death chair in the whole world can kill a cobbler." Bobbie braced himself against her and sat up. His blind eyes were roving over her with an expression of disbelief. Jinnie knew he was doubting her veracity, so she hurried on. "Of course they got an electric chair that'll kill other kinds of men," she explained volubly, "but if you'll believe me, Bobbie, no cobbler could ever sit in it." Bobbie dropped back again. There was a ring of truth in Jinnie's words, and he began to believe her. "And another thing, Bobbie, there's something in the Bible better'n what I've told you. You believe the Bible, don't you?" "Lafe's Bible?" asked Bobbie, scarcely audible. "Sure! There isn't but one." "Yes, Jinnie, I believe that," said the boy.