Rose O'Paradise Part 19

Peggy sniffed a ruse. She came forward, spread her feet a bit, rolling her hands nervously in her ap.r.o.n. She hated an everlasting show of feelings, but sometimes it was difficult for her to crush the emotions which had so often stirred in her breast since the girl came to live with them.

"I might as well tell you one thing right now, Jinnie Grandoken," she said. "You brought that pup into this house an' you'll take him out, or he won't get took; see?"

There was a certain tone in Peg's voice the girl had heard before.

"Then he won't get kicked out 't all, Peg," she said, with a petulant, youthful smile. "I just won't do it! Lafe can't, and if you don't----"

Mrs. Grandoken made a deep noise in her throat.

"You're a sa.s.sy brat," said she, "that's what you are! An' if Lafe don't just about beat the life out of you when I tell him about this, I will, with my own hand, right before his eyes. That's what----"

Jinnie interrupted her eagerly. "Lafe won't beat me," she answered, "but I'll let you make me black and blue, Peg, if I can keep the puppy. Matty used to beat me fine, and she was a good bit stronger'n you."

Peggy's eyes drew down at the corners, and her lip quivered.

"Keep him if you want to, imp of Satan, but some day----here, see if the beast'll eat this bit of meat."

Jinnie placed the shivering dog on the floor, and Peg put a piece of meat under his nose. In her excitement, Jinnie rushed away to Lafe.

Peg's mumble followed her even through the closed door.

"Cobbler, oh, dear good Lafe," cried the girl, "the dog's living! Peg says I can keep 'im, and I'm goin' to fiddle for him to-night. Do you think he'll forget all about his hurt if I do that, Lafe?"

At that moment, shamed that she had given in to the importunate Jinnie, Mrs. Grandoken opened the shop door, shoving the half wet dog inside.

"Here's your pup, kid," she growled, "an' y'd best keep him from under my feet if you don't want him stepped on."

The cobbler smiled his slow, sweet smile.

"Peg's heart's bigger'n this house," he murmured. "Bring him here, la.s.sie."

The girl, dog in arms, stood at the cobbler's side.

"What're you goin' to name him?" asked Lafe, tenderly.

"I dunno, but he's awful happy, now he's going to stay with us."

"Call 'im 'Happy Pete'," said the cobbler, smiling, "an' we'll take 'im into our club; shall we, kid?"

So Happy Pete was gathered that day into the bosom of the "Happy in Spite."

CHAPTER XI

WHAT HAPPENED TO JINNIE

With a sigh Jinnie allowed Lafe to buckle the shortwood strap to her shoulder. Oh, how many days she had gone through a similar operation with a similar little sigh!

It was a trying ordeal, that of collecting and selling kindling wood, for the men of Paradise Road took the best of the shortwood to be found in the nearer swamp and marsh lands, and oftentimes it was nearly noon before the girl would begin her sale.

But the one real happiness of her days lay in dropping the pennies she earned into Peg's hand.

Now Peggy didn't believe in spoiling men or children, but one morning, as she tied a scarf about Jinnie's neck, she arranged the black curls with more than usual tenderness.

Pausing at the door and looking back at the woman, Jinnie suddenly threw up her head in determination.

"I love you, Peggy," she said, drawing in a long breath. "Give me a little kiss, will you?"

There! The cat was out of the bag. In another instant Jinnie would know her fate. How she dared to ask such a thing the girl could never afterwards tell.

If Peg kissed her, work would be easy. If she denied her----Peggy glanced at her, then away again, her eyes shifting uneasily.

But after once taking a stand, Jinnie held her ground. Her mouth was pursed up as if she was going to whistle. Would Peg refuse such a little request? Evidently Peggy would, for she scoffingly ordered.

"Go along with you, kid--go long, you flip little brat!"

"I'd like a kiss awful much," repeated Jinnie, still standing. Her voice was low-toned and pleading, her blue eyes questioningly on Peg's face.

Peg shook her head.

"I won't kiss you 'cause I hate you," she sniffed. "I've always hated you."

Jinnie's eyes filled with tears.

"I know it," she replied sadly, "I know it, but I'd like a kiss just the same because--because I _do_ love _you_, Peg."

A bit of the same sentiment that had worried her for over a year now attacked Mrs. Grandoken. Her common sense told her to dash away to the kitchen, but a tugging in her breast kept her anch.o.r.ed to the spot.

Suddenly, without a word, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the girl close to her broad breast and pressed her lips on Jinnie's with resounding smacks.

"There! There! And _there_!" she cried, between the kisses. "An' if y'

ever tell a soul I done it, I'll sc.r.a.pe every inch of skin off'n your flesh, an' mebbe I'll do something worse, I hate y' that bad."

In less seconds than it takes to tell it, Peg let Jinnie go, and the girl went out of the door with a smiling sigh.

"Kisses 're sweeter'n roses," she murmured, walking to the track. "I wish I'd get more of 'em."

She turned back as she heard Peg's voice calling her.

"You might toddle in an' bring home a bit of sausage," said the woman, indifferently, "an' five cents' worth of chopped steak."

Mrs. Grandoken watched Jinnie until she turned the corner. She felt a strangling sensation in her throat.

A little later she flung the kitchen utensils from place to place, and otherwise acted so ugly and out of temper that, had Lafe known the whole incident, he would have smiled knowingly at the far-off hill and held his peace.

Late in the afternoon Jinnie counted seventeen pennies, one dime and a nickel. It was a fortune for any girl to make, and what was better yet, buckled to her young shoulders in the shortwood strap was almost her next day's supply. As she replaced the money in her pocket and walked toward the market, she murmured gravely,

"Mebbe Peg's kisses helped me to get it, but--but I musn't forget Lafe's prayers."