Seven days had dragged their seemingly slow length from seconds to minutes, from minutes to hours, from hours to days. In the cobbler's shop Jinnie and Bobbie waited in breathless anxiety for Peg's return. She had gone to the district attorney for permission to visit her husband in his cell. Nearly three hours had passed since her departure, and few other thoughts were in the mind of the girl save the passionate wish for news of her two beloved friends. She was standing by the window looking out upon the tracks, and as a heavy train steamed past she counted the cars with melancholy rhythm. There came to her mind the day she had found Bobbie on the hill, and all the sweet moments since when the cobbler had been with them. She choked back a sob that made a little noise in her tightened throat.
Bobbie stumbled his unseeing way to her and shoved a small, cold hand into hers.
"Jinnie's sad," he murmured. "Bobbie's stars're blinkin' out."
Mrs. Grandoken and Jinnie had come to an understanding that Bobbie should not know of the cobbler's trouble, so the strong fingers closed over the little ones, but the girl did not speak. At length she caught a glimpse of Peg, who, with bent head, was stumbling across the tracks. Peggy had failed in her mission! Jinnie knew it because the woman did not look up as she came within sight of the house.
As Mrs. Grandoken entered slowly, Jinnie turned to her.
"You didn't see him?" she said in a tone half exclamation, half question.
"No," responded Peg, wearily, sitting down. "I waited 'most two hours for the lawyer, an' when he come, I begged harder'n anything, but it didn't do no good. He says I can't see my man for a long time. I guess they're tryin' to make him confess he killed Maudlin."
Jinnie's hand clutched frantically at the other's arm. Both women had forgotten the presence of the blind child.
"He wouldn't do that," cried Jinnie, panic-stricken. "A man can't own up to doing a thing he didn't do."
"Course not," whispered Bobbie, in an awed whisper, and the girl sat down, drawing him to her lap. She could no longer guard her tongue nor hide her feelings. She took the afternoon paper from Mrs. Grandoken's hand.
"Read about it aloud," implored the woman.
"It says," began Jinnie, "Mr. King's dying."
The paper fluttered from her hand, and she sat like a small graven image. To see those words so cruelly set in black and white, staring at her with frightful truth, harrowed the very soul of her. A sobbing outburst from Bobbie mingled with the soft chug, chug of the engine outside on the track. Happy Pete, too, felt the tragedy in the air. He wriggled nearer his young mistress and rested his pointed nose on one of her knees, while his twinkling yellow eyes demanded, in their eloquent way, to know the cause of his loved ones' sorrow.