THE STORY OF A BIRD
Lafe Grandoken, in his wheel chair, sat under the barred prison
window, an open Bible on his knees. Slowly the shadows were falling
about him, and to the man every shade had an entity of its own. First
there trooped before him all the old memories of the many
yesterdays--of Peg--his little dead lad--and Jinnie. And lastly,
ghostlike, came the shattered hopes of to-morrow, and with these he
groaned and shivered.
Jinnie stole in and looked long upon her friend through the
iron-latticed door. The smile that played with the dimples in her
cheeks and the dancing shadows in the violet eyes indicated her
happiness. Lafe looked older and thinner than ever before, and her
heart sang when she thought of the news she had to tell him. She
longed to pronounce his name, to take away the far-away expression
that seemed to hold him in deep meditation. During her tramp to the
jail she'd concocted a fairy story to bring a smile to the cobbler's
lips. So at length:
"Lafe," she whispered.
Mr. Grandoken's head came up quickly, and he turned the chair and
wheeled toward her. There was the same question in his eyes that had
been there for so many days, and Jinnie smiled broadly.
"Lafe," she began mysteriously, "a great big bird flew right into the
house last night. He flopped in to get out of the storm!"
"A bird?" repeated Lafe, startled.
"Yes, and everybody says it's awful good luck."
Lafe's expression grew tragic, and Jinnie hurried on with her tale.
"I'll bet you can't guess what kind of a bird 'twas, Lafe."
Lafe shook his head. "I can't lessen 'twas a robin," said he.
Jinnie giggled.
"My, no! He was a heap bigger'n a robin. Guess again!"
Such chatter from Jinnie was unusual, especially of late, but Lafe
bore it patiently.
"I can't," he sighed, shaking his head.
Jinnie clapped her hands.
"I knew you couldn't! Well, Lafe, it was a--a----"
"Yes?" queried Lafe wearily, during her hesitation. "Well, Jinnie?"
"It was a great, big, beautiful white stork, Lafe, and he brought you
a new Jew baby. What'd you think of that?"
"Jinnie, girl, lass, you ain't tellin' me----"
"Yes, dear, he's there, as big as life and twice as natural, Peg
says.... Of course," she rambled on, "the stork went away, but the Jew
baby--to make a long story short, he's with----"
"His ma, eh, dear?" interjected Lafe. "How's Peg, honey?"
"Oh, she's fine," replied Jinnie, "and I've a lot to tell you,
dearest."
"Begin," commanded Lafe, with wide, bright eyes.
Jinnie commenced by telling how lovely the baby was. Of course she
didn't rehearse Peg's suffering. It wouldn't do any good.
"And the baby looks like you, Lafe," she observed.
"Does he really?" gasped Lafe, trying to smile.
"He's got your Jew look 'round his nose," added Jinnie gravely. "You
wanted him to look like you, didn't you, Lafe?"
"Sure, Jinnie. And now about Peggy? Tell me about Peggy."
"Peggy's with us, Lafe----" Jinnie stopped and drew a long breath.
"What'd you think? Oh--guess!"
"I couldn't! Tell me, Jinnie! Don't keep me waitin' for good things."
"Peggy's in the 'Happy in Spite', and I'm learning her all the verses
you taught me."
Then Lafe's head dropped on his hands and tears trickled through his
fingers.
"I wish I could see her," he groaned deeply.
"When she gets well, you can," promised Jinnie, "and mebbe the baby."
Lafe's head was raised quickly and his eyes sparkled.
"I'd love to see 'em both," was all he could stammer.
The girl thrust her fingers through the bars to him, and they stood
thus, regarding each other in all confidence and faith, until Jinnie
dropped his hand.
"Mr. King's getting well," she said softly.
"I'm glad, very glad. He don't think I done it, does he, Jinnie?"
"No, and when I see him I'll tell him you didn't."
And as if that settled it, she turned to go; then hesitating, she
smiled upon him.
"Give me four nice kisses, Lafe. I'll take one to Peg, Bobbie, and the
baby, and keep one for myself." Then after their lips had met through
the bars in resounding smacks, Jinnie gasped, "We can't forget Milly
Ann and Happy Pete. Two more, honey!"
"God bless you, Jinnie lass," murmured Lafe, trying to hide his
emotion, and then he wheeled quickly back into the falling afternoon
light under the window.
Jinnie's energetic mind was busy with a scheme. She wasn't sure it
would meet with Peg's approval, but when she arrived home, she sat
down beside Mrs. Grandoken.
"Now, Peggy," she began emphatically, "I want you to pay attention to
what I'm saying to you."
"I will," said Peggy.
"Lafe wants to see the baby!"
"Now?" asked Mrs. Grandoken, surprised.
"Well, he didn't say just now, but his eyes asked it, and, Peg, I was
wondering if I couldn't take the little kid up to the jail."
Peggy shook her head.
"They wouldn't let you in with 'im," she objected.
Jinnie thought a long time. Presently she laughed a little, chuckling
laugh.
"I know how to get him in there!"
"How?" asked Peggy, incredulously.
"Why, everybody knows I've been a shortwood girl. I'll roll him up in
a bundle----"
Peg's hand sought the little body under the covers protectingly.
"Oh, I won't hurt him, Peg," assured Jinnie. "We'll wrap him up the
first fine day! You can do it yourself, dear."
One week later Jinnie went slowly up the incline that led to the
prison. On her back was a shortwood strap filled with brush and small
twigs.
"I want to see Lafe Grandoken," she said.
To surprise Lafe she crept softly along the corridor until she halted
at his cell door. She could see him plainly, and the troubled lines
were almost erased from between his brows. She was glad of that, for
she wanted him to smile, to be "Happy in Spite."
She called his name and he turned, wheeling toward her.
"I hoped you'd be comin'," he said, smiling gravely. Then noting the
shortwood, he exclaimed, "Have you had to go to work again, lass?"
"Just for to-day," and Jinnie displayed her white teeth in a broad
smile. "I've brought you something, Lafe, and I wrapped it up in
shortwood."
The girl carefully slipped the strap from her shoulders and sat down
beside it on the floor. Watching eagerly, Lafe peered between the
bars, for surely his Peggy had sent him some token of her love. The
girl paused and looked up.
"Shut your eyes tight, Lafe," she commanded playfully.
Lafe closed his eyes, wrinkling down his lids. Then Jinnie lifted the
baby and uncovered the small face. The little chap opened his eyes and
yawned as the girl held him close to the bars.
"Now, Lafe, quick! Look! Ha! It's a Jew!"
The cobbler's eyes flew open, and he was staring squarely into a
small, rosy, open-eyed baby face. For a moment he thought he was
dreaming--dreaming a dream he had dreamed every night since the
thunder storm. He caught at his chin to stay the chattering of his
teeth.
"It ain't him, Jinnie, my Jew baby?" he murmured brokenly.
"Yes, 'tis," and she laughed. "It's your own little feller. I brought
him to get a kiss from his daddy. Kiss him! Kiss him smack on the
mouth, Lafe."
And Lafe kissed his baby--kissed him once, twice, and three times,
gulping hard after each caress. He would never have enough of those
sweet kisses, never, never! And as his lips descended reverently upon
the smooth, rose-colored skin, Mr. Grandoken laughed, and Jinnie
laughed, and the baby, too, wrinkled up his nose.
"Lafe," Jinnie said tenderly, drawing the baby away, "I knew you
wanted to see him; didn't you?"
Lafe nodded. "An' I'll never be able to thank you for this, Jinnie....
Let me kiss him once more.... Oh, ain't he beautiful?"
Just before the girl wrapped the boy again in the shortwood, she
suggested,
"Lafe, what's against taking him into the 'Happy in Spite'? He's
happier'n any kid in the whole world, having you for a daddy and Peg
for his mother."
Jinnie thrust the baby's plump hand through the bars, and Lafe, with
tears in his eyes, shook it tenderly, then kissed it.
"Lafe Grandoken, Jr," he whispered, "you're now a member of the 'Happy
in Spite' Club."
And then Jinnie took the baby back to Peggy.