"And the baby? Is he well, dear?" questioned Jinnie.
"Oh, fine!" the boy assured her. "He's growed such a lot. I felt his face this morning, and oh, my, Jinnie, his cheeks puff out like this!"
Bobbie gathered in a long breath, and puffed out his own thin, drawn cheeks.
"Just like that!" he gasped, letting out the air.
"And Lafe?" ventured Jinnie.
"Lafe's awful bad off, I guess. Bates' little boy told me he was going to die----"
"No, Bobbie, no, he isn't!" Jinnie's voice was sharp in protestation.
"Yes, he is!" insisted Bobbie. "Bates' boy told me so! He said Lafe wouldn't ever come back to the shop, 'cause everybody says he killed Maudlin."
As the words left his lips, he began to sob. "I want my cobbler," he screamed loudly, "and I want my beautiful stars!"
"Bobbie, Bobbie, you'll be sick if you scream that way. There, there, honey!" Jinnie hushed him gently.
"I want to be 'Happy in Spite'," the boy went on. But his words brought before the pale girl that old, old memory of the cobbler who had invented the club for just such purposes as this. How could she be 'Happy in Spite' when Bobbie suffered; when Peg and baby Lafe needed her; happy when Lafe faced an ignominious death for a crime he had not committed; happy when her beloved was perhaps still very ill in the hospital? She got up and began to walk to and fro. Suddenly she paused in her even march across the room. Unless she steadied her fluttering, stinging nerves, she'd never be able to still the wretched boy. There's an old saying that when one tries to help others, winged aid will come to the helper. And so it was with Jinnie. She had only again taken Bobbie close when there came to her Lafe's old, old words: "He hath given his angels charge over thee."
"Bobbie," she said softly, "I'm going to play for you."
As Jinnie straightened his limp little body out on the divan, she noticed how very thin he had become, how his heart throbbed continually, how the agonized lines drew and pursed the sensitive, delicate mouth.
Then she played and played and played, and ever in her heart to the rhythm of her music were the words, "His angels shall have charge over thee." Suddenly there came to her a great belief that out of her faith and Lafe's faith would come Bobbie's good, and Peg's good, and especially the good of the man shut up in the little cell. When the boy grew sleepy, Jinnie made him ready for bed.