"Well," and Jinnie glanced up at the ceiling, "there's just about a hundred pages in that book tells how once some men tried to put a cobbler in one of those chairs, and the lightning jumped out and set 'em all on fire----" Bobbie straightened up so quickly that Happy Pete fell to the floor. "Yes, yes, Jinnie dear," he breathed. "Go on!" Jinnie hesitated. She didn't want to fabricate further. "It's just so awful I hate to tell you," she objected. "I'd be happier if you would," whispered Bobbie. "Then I will! The fire, jumping out, didn't hurt the cobbler one wee bit, but it burned the wicked men----" Jinnie paused, gathered a deep breath, and brought to mind Lafe's droning voice when he had used the same words, "Burned 'em root and branch," declared she. Bobbie's face shone with happiness. "Is that all?" he begged. "Isn't it enough?" asked Jinnie, with tender chiding. "Aren't there nothin' in it about Lafe?" "Oh, sure!" Again she was at loss for ideas, but somehow words of their own volition seemed to spring from her lips. "Sure there is! There's another hundred pages in that blessed book that says good men like Lafe won't ever go into one of those chairs, never, never.... The Lord God Almighty ordered all those death chairs to be chopped up for kindling wood," she ended triumphantly. "Shortwood?" broke out Bobbie. Unheeding the interruption, Jinnie pursued: "They just left a chair for wicked men, that's all." Bobbie slipped to the floor and raised his hands. "Jinnie, pretty Jinnie. I'm goin' to believe every word you've said, every word, and my stars're all shinin' so bright they're just like them in the sky." Jinnie kissed the eager little face and left the child sitting on the floor, crooning contentedly to Happy Pete. "Lafe told me once," Jinnie whispered to herself on the way to the kitchen, "when a lie does a lot of good, it's better than the truth if telling facts hurts some one." She joined Peggy, sighing, "I'm an awful liar, all right, but Bobbie's happy." CHAPTER XXXVII WHAT THE THUNDER STORM BROUGHT In the past few weeks Jinnie Grandoken had been driven blindly into unknown places, forced to face conditions which but a short time before would have seemed unbearable. However, there was much with which Jinnie could occupy her time. Blind Bobbie was not well. He was mourning for the cobbler with all his boyish young soul, and every day Peggy grew more taciturn and ill. The funds left by Theodore were nearly gone, and Jinnie had given up her lessons. She was using the remaining money for their meagre necessities.