"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 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." CHAPTER IX BY THE SWEAT OF HER BROW Over the bridge into Paradise Road went the lithe, buoyant figure of a girl, a loose strap hanging from one straight shoulder. Jinnie was radiantly happy, for her first day had netted the family twenty cents, and if Paradise Road had been covered with eggs, she would not have broken many in her flight homeward. If she had been more used to Mrs. Grandoken, she would have understood the peculiar tightening at the corners of the woman's thin lips when she delivered the precious pittance. Virginia searched the other's face for the least sign of approbation. She wished Peg would kiss her, but, of course, she dared not suggest it. To have a little show of affection seemed to Jinnie just then the most desirable thing in the world, but the cobbler's wife merely muttered as she went away to the kitchen, and Virginia, sighing, sat down. "Now suppose you tell me all about it, Jinnie," Lafe suggested smilingly; "just where you went an' how you earned all the money." Fatigued almost beyond the point of rehearsing her experiences, Jinnie took Milly Ann on her lap and curled up in the chair. "I guess I've walked fifteen miles," she began. "You know most folks don't want wood." Lafe took one sidewise glance at the beautiful face. He remembered a picture he had once seen of an angel. Jinnie's face was like that picture.