THE COBBLER'S SECRET
One Sunday morning, Jinnie sat with Lafe in the shop. In hours like
these they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The quietude of these
precious Sabbath moments made the week, with its arduous tasks,
bearable to the sensitive girl.
For several days past Jinnie had noticed Lafe had something on his
mind, but she always allowed him to tell her everything in his own
good time. Now she felt the time had come. His gray face, worn with
suffering, was shining with a heavenly light as he read aloud from a
little Bible in his hand. To-day he had chosen the story of Abraham
and Sarah. When he came to the part where Abraham said:
"Lord, if now I have found favor in Thy sight, pass not away, I pray
Thee, from Thy servant," he pronounced the last word with sobbing
breath. One quick glance was enough for Jinnie's comprehension.
She leaned forward breathlessly.
"What is it, Lafe?... Something great?"
"Yes, something great, lassie, and in God's name most wonderful."
Before Jinnie's world of imagery passed all the good she had desired
for Lafe. His softly spoken, "In God's name most wonderful," thrilled
her from head to foot.
"And you've been keeping it from me, Lafe," she chided gently.
"Please, please, tell me."
Lafe sat back in the wheel chair and closed his eyes. "Wait, child,"
he breathed hesitatingly. "Wait a minute!"
As Jinnie watched him, she tried to stifle the emotion tugging at her
heart--to keep back the tears that welled into her eyes. Perhaps what
he had to tell her _would_ make her cry. Jinnie hoped not, for she
disliked to do that. It was so childlike, so like Blind Bobbie, who
always had either a beatific smile on his pale lips, or a mist shining
in his rock-gray eyes.
At length Lafe sighed a long, deep-drawn sigh, and smiled.
"Jinnie," he began----
"Yes, Lafe."
"I've been wonderin' if you remember the story of the little feller
God sent to Peg an' me--the one I told you would a been six years
old."
"Yes, I remember, Lafe."
"An' how good Peggy was----"
"Oh, how good Peggy always is!" interjected Jinnie.
"Yes," breathed Lafe, dreamily. "May God bless my woman in all her
trials!"
Jinnie hitched her chair nearer his and slipped her arm about his neck
soothingly.
"She doesn't have trials you don't share, Lafe," she declared.
Lafe straightened up.
"Yes, Peg has many, lassie, I can't help 'er with, an' she'll have a
many more. To get to tell you something, Jinnie, I asked Peg to take
Bobbie out with 'er. We can't turn the little feller from the club
room when he ain't out with Peg; can we, Jinnie?"
"Of course not," agreed Jinnie, nodding.
"So when Peg said she was goin' out," proceeded Lafe, gravely, "I
says, thinkin' of the things I wanted to say to you, I said to Peggy,
'Take the little blind chap along with you, Peggy dear,' an' without a
word she put the youngster into his clothes an' away they went."
Jinnie's curiosity was growing by the minute.
"And you're going to tell me now, Lafe?"
"An' now I'm goin' to tell you, Jinnie."
But he didn't tell her just then. Instead he sat looking at her with
luminous eyes, and the expression in them--that heavenly
expression--compelled Jinnie to kneel beside him, and for a little
while they sat in silence.
"Dear child," Lafe murmured, dropping a tender hand on her shining
head, "dear, dear girl!"
"It must be a joyful thing, Lafe, for your face shines as bright as
Bobbie's stars."
"I'm blessed happy to-day!" he sighed, with twitching lips.
Jinnie took his hand in hers and smoothed it fondly.
"What is it, Lafe, dear?" she asked.
"Do you want to kneel while I tell you?" queried the cobbler.
"Yes, right here."
"Then look right at me, Jinnie lass!"
Jinnie _was_ looking at him with her whole soul in her eyes.
"I'm looking at you, Lafe," she said.
"An' don't take your eyes from me; will you?"
"Sure not!"
It must be a great surprise for Lafe to act like this, thought the
girl.
"Lassie," commenced Lafe, "I want you to be awful good to Peggy....
It's about her I'm goin' to speak."
Jinnie sank back on the tips of her toes.
"What about Peg? There isn't----"
"Dear Peggy," interrupted Lafe softly, his voice quick with tears,
"dear, precious Peggy!" Then as he bent over Jinnie and Jinnie bent
nearer him, Lafe placed his lips to her ear and whispered something.
She struggled to her feet, strange and unknown emotions rising in her
eyes.
"Lafe!" she cried. "Lafe dear!"
"Yes," nodded the cobbler. "Yes, if you want to know the truth, the
good God's goin' to send me an' Peg another little Jew baby."
Jinnie sat down in her chair quite dazed. Lafe's secret was much
greater than she had expected! Much!
"Tell me about it," she pleaded.
Keen anxiety erased the cobbler's smiling expression.
"Poor Peggy!" he groaned again. "She can't see where the bread's
comin' from to feed another mouth, but as I says, 'Peggy, you said the
same thing when Jinnie came, an' the blind child, an' this little
one's straight from God's own tender breast.'"
"That's so, Lafe," accorded Jinnie, "and, Oh, dearie, I'll work so
hard, so awful hard to get in more wood, and tell me, tell me when,
Lafe; when is he coming to us, the Jew baby?"
Lafe smiled at her eagerness.
"You feel the same way as I do, honey," he observed. "The very same
way!... Why, girlie, when Peg first told me I thought I'd get up and
fly!"
"I should think so, but--but--I want to know how soon, Lafe, dear."
"Oh, it's a long time, a whole lot of weeks!"
"I wish it was to-morrow," lamented Jinnie, disappointedly. "I wonder
if Peg'll let me hug and kiss him."
"Sure," promised Lafe, and they lapsed into silence.
At length, Jinnie stole to the kitchen. She returned with her violin
box and Milly Ann in her arms.
"Hold the kitty, darling," she said softly, placing the cat on his
lap. "She'll be happy, too. Milly Ann loves us all, Milly Ann does."
Then she took out the fiddle and thrummed the strings.
"I'm going to play for you," she resumed, "while you think about Peggy
and the--and--the baby."
The cobbler nodded his head, and wheeled himself a bit nearer the
window, from where he could see the hill rise upward to the blue,
making a skyline of exquisite beauty.
Jinnie began to play. What tones she drew from that small brown
fiddle! The rapture depicted in her face was but a reflection of the
cobbler's. And as he meditated and listened, Lafe felt that each tone
of Jinnie's fiddle had a soul of its own--that the instrument was
peopled with angel voices--voices that soothed him when he suffered
beyond description--voices that now expressed in rhythmical harmony
the peace within him. Jinnie was able to put an estimate on his moods,
and knew just what comfort he needed most. Until that moment the
cobbler's wife had seemed outside the charm of the beloved home
circle. But to-day, ah, to-day!--Jinnie's bow raced over the strings
like a mad thing. To-day Peggy Grandoken became in the girl's eyes a
glorified woman, a woman set apart by God Himself to bring to the home
a new baby.
Jinnie played and played and played, and Theodore in spirit-fancy
stood beside her. Lafe thought and thought and thought, while Peggy
walked through his day dreams like some radiant being.
"A baby----my baby, in the house," sang the cobbler's heart.
"A baby, our baby, in the house," poured from Jinnie's soul, and
"Baby, little baby," sprang from the fiddle over and over, as golden
flashes of the sun warms the earth. Truly was Lafe being revivified;
truly was Jinnie! Theodore King! How infinitely close he seemed to
her! How the memory of his smile cheered and strengthened her!
From the tip of the fiddle tucked under a rounded chin to the line of
purple-black hair, the blood rushed in riotous confusion over the
fiddler's lovely face. What was it in Lafe's story that had brought
Theodore King so near?
Jinnie couldn't have told, but she was sure the fiddle knew. It was
intoning to Lafe--to her--the language of the birds and the mystery of
the flower blossoms, the invisible riddles of Heaven and earth, of all
the concealed secrets beyond the blue of the sky; all the panorama of
Nature strung out in a wild, sweet forest song. Jinnie had backed
against the wall as she played, and when out of her soul came the
twitter of the morning birds, the babbling of the brook on its way to
the sea, the scream of the owl in a high woodland tree, Lafe turned to
watch her, and from that moment until she dropped exhausted into a
chair, he did not take his eyes from her.
"Jinnie!" he gasped, as he thrust forth his hand and took hers.
"You've made me happier to-day'n I've been in many a week. Peg'll be
all right.... Everybody'll be all right.... God bless us!"
Jinnie sat up with bright, inquiring eyes.
"Did you tell Peg I was to know about----"
"About our baby?" intervened Lafe tenderly.
He dwelt lovingly on those precious words.
"Yes, about your baby," repeated Jinnie.
"Yes, I told 'er, dear. I said you'd want to be happy too."
"I'm so glad," sighed Jinnie, reverently. "Look!... Peg's coming
now!"
They both watched Mrs. Grandoken as she stolidly crossed the tracks,
leading Bobbie by the hand.
And later Jinnie hovered over Peggy in the kitchen. The woman had
taken on such a new dignity. She must be treated with the greatest and
most extra care. If Jinnie had done what she craved, she'd have
bounded to Peg and kissed her heartily. Of course that wouldn't do,
but talk to her she must,
"Peggy," she said softly, tears lurking in her eyes.
Peg looked at her without moving an eyelash. Jinnie wished she would
say something; her task would be so much easier.
"Peggy," she begged again.
"Huh?"
"Lafe told me, dear," and then she did something she hadn't done with
Lafe; she began to cry, just why, Jinnie didn't know; Peg looked so
sad, so distant, and so ill.
It was probably Jinnie's tears that softened Peg, for she put her hand
on the girl's shoulders and stood silent. After the first flood of
tears Jinnie ventured:
"I'm awful happy, Peggy dear, and I want you to know I'm going to work
harder'n I even did for Blind Bobbie.... I will, Peg, I promise I
will.... Kiss me, Oh, kiss me, dear!"
Peggy bent over and kissed the upturned, tearful face solemnly. Then
she turned her back, beginning to work vigorously, and Jinnie returned
to the shop with the kiss warm on her cheek.