The Murder

At two o'clock, she said to Peggy: "May I take Bobbie for a little walk, dear?"

The blind child heard the request and scrambled up.

"Can I go, Peggy?" he pleaded.

Peg glared at the girl.

"I thought you always fiddled in the afternoon," she queried.

"I do generally," acquiesced Jinnie, "but--to-day----"

"Well, go 'long," said Peg, not very graciously. "I'm goin' over to Miss Bates' a while. Maudlin come by just now, an' said would I come over.... Get back early!"

Jinnie dressed Bobbie with trembling fingers. The boy noticed she could scarcely button his jacket.

"What's the matter, Jinnie dear?" he whispered.

Jinnie was just slipping on his cap as he spoke. She bent and kissed him passionately.

"Nothing, honey, only Jinnie's happy, very happy."

"I'm so glad," sighed Bobbie, with a smiling wag. "I'm happy too. Let's go on the hill, and take Petey."

"It'd be lovely, dear," replied the girl.

A few minutes later, with the little dog at their heels, they were wending their way up the board walk to the hill.

Mr. Grandoken, alone in his shop, worked with contented vigor. The days, those beautiful summer days, were bringing untold joy to him. Peggy seemed in brighter spirits, and Jinnie's radiant face made Lafe rejoice. Little Bobbie's stars were always shining nowadays, so what more could the dear man want? As he sat tip-tapping, he took himself in fancy to that day ahead when Heaven would unfold another blessing for Peg--for him. He put down his hammer and glanced out of the window, and suddenly Maudlin Bates loomed up, with all his hulking swagger obliterating the shoemaker's mental bliss.