"I suppose she's dead, or Mag wouldn't a had me. I don't know very much, but I 'member how my mother's hands feel. They were soft and warm. She used to come to see me at the woman's house who died--the one who give me to Mag." "She must have been a lovely mother," commented Jinnie. "She were! Mag tried to find her 'cause she said she was rich, and when she couldn't, she beat me. I thought mebbe I'd find mother out in the street. That's why I run away." Jinnie thought of her own dead father, and the child's halting tale brought back that one night of agony when Thomas Singleton died, alone and unloved, save for herself. She wanted to cry, but instead she murmured, "Happy in Spite," as Lafe had bidden her, and the melting mood vanished. The cobbler and his club were always wonderfully helpful to Jinnie. "My mother told me onct," Bobbie went on, "she didn't have nothin' to live for. I was blind, you see, and wasn't any good--was I?" The question, pathetically put, prompted Virginia to fling back a ready answer. "You're good 'nough for me and Happy Pete," she asserted, "and Lafe'll let you be his little boy too." The blind child gasped, and the girl continued assuringly, "Peg'll love you, too. She couldn't help it." "Peg?" queried Bobbie. "Oh, she's Lafe's wife. Happy Pete and me stay in her house." The blind eyes flashed with sudden hope. "Mebbe she'll love me a little! Will she?" "I hope so. Anyway, Lafe will. He loves everybody, even dogs. He'll love you; _sure_ he will!" The boy shook his head doubtfully. "Nobody but mothers are nice to blind kids. Well--well--'cept you. I'd like to go to Lafe's house, though, but mebbe the woman wouldn't want me." Jinnie had her own ideas about this, but because the child's tears fell hot upon her hands, the mother within her grew to greater proportions. Three times she repeated softly, "Happy in Spite." "Happy in Spite," she whispered again. Then she sat up with a brilliant smile. "Of course I'm going to take you to Lafe's. Here at Lafe's my heart's awful busy loving everybody. Now I've got you I'm going to take care of you, 'cause I love you just like the rest. Stand up and let me wipe your nose." "Let me see how you look, first," faltered the boy. "Where's your face?... I want to touch it!" His little hands reached and found Jinnie's shoulders. Then slowly the fingers moved upwards, pressing here and there upon the girl's skin, as they traveled in rhythmic motion over her cheeks. "Your hair's awful curly and long," said he. "What color is it?" "Color? Well, it's black with purple running through it, I guess. People say so anyway!" "Oh, yes, I know what black is. And your eyes're blue, ain't they?" "Yes, blue," assented Jinnie. "I see 'em when I slick my hair in the kitchen glass ... I don't think they're much like yours." Bobbie paid no heed to the allusion to himself.