THE COMING OF THE ANGELS
"You'd better make it a special prayer, Lafe," said Jinnie, a little
pucker between her eyes. "Every day I'm more'n more afraid of
Maudlin."
"I will, honey, an' just pop into Bates' cottage an' tell Maudlin's pa
to run in the shop.... Go long, lass, nobody'll hurt you."
After leaving Lafe's message at the Bates' cottage, Jinnie stepped
from the tracks to the marshes with a joyful heart. Of course nothing
could harm her! Lafe's faith, mingled with her own, would save her
from every evil in the world.
When Bates opened the shop door, the cobbler looked up gravely. He
nodded his head to Jasper's, "Howdy do, Grandoken?"
"Sit down," said Lafe.
"Jinnie says you wanted me."
"Yes, a few minutes' chat; that's all!"
"Spit it out," said Bates.
Lafe put down his hammer with slow importance.
"It's this way, Jasper. Maudlin's----"
"What's Maudie done now?" demanded Bates, lighting his pipe.
"He's been botherin' my girl, that's what," responded Lafe.
"Jinnie?"
"Sure. She's all the girl I got.... Maudlin's got to stop it, Bates."
A cruel expression flitted over Jasper's face.
"I ain't nothin' to do with Maudlin's love affairs," said he. "Jinnie
could do worse'n get him, I'm a guessin'! Maudie adds up pretty good,
Maudie does!"
Lafe shook his head with a grim serenity that became the strained
white face.
"His addin' up ain't nothin' to his credit, Jasper," he protested.
"He's as crooked as a ram's horn an' you know it. If you don't, take
my word for it! There ain't nothin' doin' for him far's Jinnie's
concerned!... I sent for you to bargain with you." Jasper pricked up
his ears. The word "bargain" always attracted him.
"Well?" he questioned.
"You keep your boy from my girl and I'll do all your family cobblin'
for nothin' till Jinnie's a woman."
Bates leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
"It's a bargain, all right. Them kids of mine do wear out the soles of
their shoes some. But, Lafe, I can't tag Maudlin around all day."
Lafe took up his hammer.
"Lick him if he won't mind you, Bates. He's got to let my girl be, and
that's all there is to it."
Saying this, he started to work, giving the shortwood gatherer his
dismissal. Bates left his chair thoughtfully.
"I'll talk to Maudie," said he, "but he's an onery kid; has been ever
since his mother died. He don't git along with his stepma very well,
and she's got such a lot of little kids of 'er own she ain't time to
train no hulk of a boy like Maudlin."
Pausing a moment, he went on, "Maudlin's been madder'n hell because
that duffer King's been haulin' Jinnie's wood. He says----"
"It ain't any of Maudlin's business who helps Jinnie," interrupted
Lafe. "If you got any shoes needin' fixin', tote 'em over, Jasper."
Bates left the shop and Lafe fell to work vigorously.
* * * * *
Maudlin Bates stood at the path leading to the marshes. He was waiting
for Jinnie to appear with her load of shortwood. To the young wood
gatherer, a woman was created for man's special benefit, and a long
time ago he had made up his mind that Jinnie should be his woman.
He was leaning against a tree when the girl came in sight, with her
wood-strap on her shoulders. She paid no attention to him, and was
about to turn into Paradise Road when the man stepped in front of
her.
"Wait a minute, Jinnie," he wheedled.
Jinnie threw him a disdainful glance.
"I can't wait. I'm in a hurry," she replied, and she hoped the fellow
would go on before the car arrived.
Young Bates' face was crossed by an obstinate expression.
"I'm goin' to find out," he said, gruffly, "why you're ridin' in rich
folks' motor cars."
"Isn't anything to you," snapped Jinnie.
The wood gatherer came so close that he forced her back a step on the
marsh path. Her disdainful eyes had drawn him to her, for, like all
men, he could be drawn by the woman who scorned him, and mesmerized by
the sheer repulse. By great effort, Jinnie had escaped from Maudlin's
insults for many months, but he had never been quite so aggressive as
this! Now she could see the dark blood in his passionate face mount
even to the whites of his eyes, those eyes which coveted the youngness
of her body, the vitality of her girl life, and all the good within
her.
"Get out of my way!" she said sharply. "You let me alone. I've got a
right to get my wood hauled if I can."
"Well, you don't do it any more," said Maudlin. "If you're too lazy to
carry your own wood, I'll help you myself.... You can't go no more to
King's in _his_ car."
Jinnie turned a pair of glinting blue eyes upon him.
"Who said I couldn't?" she demanded. "Uncle Lafe lets me."
"Your Uncle Lafe said you could marry me," said Maudlin in slow,
drawling tones.
Jinnie's blood boiled up behind her ears. She was eyeing him in
bewilderment. Maudlin's words made her more angry than she'd ever been
in her life.
"You lie, you damn fool!" she cried, and then caught her breath in
consternation. It was the first oath that had escaped her lips in many
a long day, and she felt truly sorry for it. She would tell Lafe of
the provocation that caused it and beg to be forgiven. She moved back
a step as Maudlin pinched her.
"I don't lie," he growled. "You think because you can scrape on a
fiddle you're better'n other folks. Pa an' me'll show you you ain't."
"You and your pa don't know everything," answered Jinnie, wrathfully.
"We know 'nough to see what King's doin' all right."
He made a dive at the girl and laid a rough hand on the shortwood
strap.
"Here! Gimme that wood if you're too lazy to carry it."
Jinnie turned her eyes up the road. It was time Bennett came. The
sound of his motor would be like sweet music in her ears. She jerked
the strap away from the man and turned furiously upon him.
"Don't touch me again, Maudlin Bates.... I don't interfere with you.
I'll--I'll----"
But Maudlin paid no heed to her insistence. He was dragging the strap
from her shoulders.
Jinnie's face grew waxen white, but she held her own for a few
minutes. Maudlin was big in proportion to her slenderness, and in
another instant her shortwood lay on the ground, and she was standing
panting before him.
"Now, then, just to show what kind of a feller I be," said he, "I'm
goin' to kiss you."
Jinnie felt cold chills running up and down her back.
"It's time you was kissed," went on Maudlin, "and after to-day I'm
goin' to be your man.... You can bet on that."
He was slowly forcing her backward along the narrow path that led into
the marshes. Jinnie knew intuitively he wanted her to turn and run
into the underbrush that he might have her alone in the great waste
place.
Like a mad creature, she fought every step of the way, Maudlin's anger
rising at each cry the girl emitted.
"I'll tell my uncle," she screamed, with sobbing breath.
"You won't want to tell 'im when I get done with you," muttered the
man. "Why don't you run? You c'n run, can't you?"
Oh, if Bennett would only come! She was still near enough to Paradise
Road for him to hear her calling.
Maudlin reached out his hand and caught the long curls between his
dirty fingers.
"If you won't run," he said, "then, that for you!" and he gave a cruel
twist to the shining hair, pulling Jinnie almost off her feet.
Then the ruffian turned, slowly dragging her foot by foot into the
marshland. She opened her lips, and gave one long scream; then another
and another before Maudlin pulled her to him and closed her mouth with
a large hand, and Jinnie grew faint with fright and terror.
They were out of sight now of Paradise Road, still Jinnie struggled
and struggled, gripping with both hands at Bates' fingers jerking at
her curls.
Suddenly Lafe's solemn words surged through her mind. "He has given
His angels charge over thee." Oh God! Dear God! What glorious, blessed
words! Lafe's angels, her angels--Jinnie's heart throbbed with faith.
Once Lafe had told her no one, no, not even Maudlin Bates, could keep
her own from her! Her honor and her very life were in the tender hands
of the cobbler's angels. Suddenly in fancy Jinnie saw the whole world
about teeming with bright ecstatic beings, and multitudes of them were
hurrying through the warm summer air to the Bellaire marshes. They
were coming--coming to help her, to save her from a fate worse than
death! Her mind reeled under the terrible pain Maudlin was inflicting
upon her, and she closed her eyes in agony. With one mighty effort,
she dragged her face from the brown, hard hand and screamed at the top
of her lungs.
* * * * *
Theodore King swung his car around into Paradise Road with busy
thoughts. He had decided to go himself that morning to bring the
little fiddler back to his home with the shortwood. He had a plan for
Jinnie.
Past the cobbler's shop sped the big motor, and as it drew up to the
marshes, he heard a blood-curdling cry from the depths of the
underbrush. In another instant he was out on the ground, dashing along
the path. He saw Jinnie and Maudlin before either one of them knew he
was near. He saw the fellow pulling the black curls, and saw a hand
almost covering the fair young face.
Then Jinnie saw him, and sent him one swift, terrified, appealing
glance.
In the smallest fraction of a second Maudlin was sprawling on the
ground, and Theodore was soundly kicking him. Jinnie sank down on the
damp moss and began to cry weakly. Her face was scratched from the
man's fingers, her head aching from the strenuous pulling of her hair.
Then she covered her eyes with her hands. God _had_ sent an angel--she
was saved! When Mr. King touched her gently, she sat up, wiping away
little streams of blood running down her face and neck.
"Oh, you came," she sobbed, raising her head, "and oh, I needed you
so!"
Theodore lifted her to her feet.
"I should say you did, you poor child! I should certainly think you
did."
Then he turned to Maudlin Bates.
"What, in God's name, were you trying to do?"
Maudlin, raging with anger, scrambled from the ground.
"Get out o' here," he hissed, "an' mind your own business."
"When I keep a bully away from a nice little girl, I'm minding my
business all right.... What was he trying to do, Jinnie?"
Maudlin walked backward until he was almost in the brush.
"I'm goin' to marry her," he said, surlily.
"He isn't," cried Jinnie. "Oh, don't believe him, Mr. King! He says
Uncle Lafe said he can marry me, but he can't."
Once more Theodore turned on Maudlin, threateningly, his anger riding
down his gentleness to Jinnie.
"Now get out of here," he exclaimed, "and don't ever let me hear of
your even speaking to this child again."
The shortwood gatherer stood his ground until Theodore, with raised
fist, was almost upon him.
"I said to get out!" thundered Mr. King.
With a baffled cry, Bates turned, rushed back into the marsh, and for
several seconds they heard him beating down the brushwood as he ran.
Theodore tenderly drew the girl into Paradise Road.
"I wanted to see your uncle to-day," he explained, without waiting for
the question which he read in Jinnie's eyes, "so I came over myself
instead of sending Bennett.... There, child! Don't tremble so! Never
mind the wood."
Jinnie hung back.
"I've got to sell it to you this afternoon," she murmured brokenly.
"Peg's got to have the money."
"We've enough at home until to-morrow.... Wait until to-morrow."
Jinnie looked longingly at the wood.
"Somebody'll take it," she objected, "and it's awful hard to gather."
A grip of pain stabbed Theodore's heart. This slender, beautiful girl,
rosy with health and genius, should gather wood no more for any one in
the world.... To soothe her, he said:
"I'll come by and pick it up on my way back.... Come along."
He lifted her into the car, and they moved slowly through Paradise
Road, and drew up before the cobbler's shop.
Lafe put down his hammer as they entered, and bade King take a chair.
Jinnie sat weakly on the bench beside Mr. Grandoken. He took her hand,
and the loving pressure brought forth a storm of outraged tears.
"'Twas Maudlin, Lafe," she wept.
Then her arms stole around the cobbler. "The angels sent Mr. King!...
Lafe, Lafe, save me from Maudlin! He--he----"
Theodore King rose to his feet, his face paling. Lafe, smoothing
Jinnie's head now buried in his breast, lifted misty eyes to the young
man.
"My poor baby! My poor little girl!" he stammered. "She has much to
stand, sir."
The other man took several nervous turns around the shop. Presently he
paused near the cobbler and coughed in embarrassment.
"I'm interested in doing something for your niece, Mr. Grandoken,"
said he lamely.
On hearing this, Jinnie lifted her head, and Lafe bowed.
"Thank you, sir," said he.
"I don't approve of her going into the marshes alone to gather wood,"
continued Mr. King. "She's too young, too----"
"I don't uther, sir," interrupted Lafe sadly, "but we've got to
live."
Not heeding the cobbler's explanation, Theodore proceeded
deliberately.
"She plays too well on the violin not to have all the training that
can be given her. Now let me be of some service until she is
self-supporting."
Again Lafe repeated, "Thank you, sir, but I don't think Jinnie could
accept money from any one."
"I don't see why not! It's quite customary when a young person is
ambitious to receive----"
"Is it, sir?" ejaculated Lafe.
"Indeed yes, and I've been making inquiries, and I find there's a very
good teacher on the hill who'll give her the rudiments.... After that,
we'll see."
Jinnie was breathing very fast.
"Lessons cost lots of money," objected Lafe feebly, drawing the girl
closer.
"I know that," interposed Mr. King, "but I want to pay for them. She
ought to take one every day, the teacher says, commencing to-morrow."
Jinnie stood up. "I couldn't let you pay for 'em," she said quickly.
"I----"
She sat down again at a motion from Theodore.
"Please don't object until I have finished," he smiled at her. "It's
like this: If you study, you'll be able to earn a lot of money. Then
you can return every dollar to me."
Suddenly it came to her mind to tell him she would have all the money
she needed when she should be eighteen.
"I'll have----" she began, but Lafe, feeling what she was going to
say, stopped her. It wasn't time to confide in any one about the
danger hanging over her. He took the matter in his own hands with his
usual melancholy dignity.
"Jinnie'll be glad to let you help her, sir, providin' you keep track
of the money you spend," he agreed.
The girl could scarcely believe her ears. Suddenly her indignant sense
of Maudlin's abuse faded away, leaving her encouraged and warm with
ambition.
Theodore took one more stride around the little room.
"Now that's sensible, Mr. Grandoken," he said contentedly. "And before
I go, I want you to promise me your niece won't go into the marshes
even once more. I must have your word before I can be satisfied. As it
is now, she earns three dollars a week bringing me wood. That I must
add to the lesson money----"
Lafe's dissenting gesture broke off Mr. King's statement, but he
resumed immediately.
"If you're sensitive on that point, I'll add it in with the other
money. I think it wise to keep our arrangements to ourselves, though."
He stopped, his face changing. "And I--I would like to make you more
comfortable here."
Lafe shook his head.
"I couldn't take anything for me and Peggy," he announced decidedly,
"but Jinnie'll give back all you let her have some day."
Then Theodore King went away reluctantly.