"I guess I've rode a hundred miles to get here," she went on, half sobbing, "and you're awful glad to see me, ain't you?"
It didn't need Lafe's, "You bet your boots," to satisfy Jinnie. The warmth of his arms, the shining, misty eyes, set her to shivering convulsively and shaking with happiness.
"Set here on the bench," invited the cobbler, softly, "an' tell me about your pa an' ma."
"They're both dead," said Jinnie, sitting down, but she still kept her hand on the cobbler's arm as if she were afraid he would vanish from her sight.
The man made a dash at his eyes with his free hand.
"Both dead!" he repeated with effort, "an' you're their girl!"
"Yes, and I've come to live with you, if you'll let me."
She drew forth the letters written the night before.
"Here's two letters," she ended, handing them over, and sinking down again into the chair.
She sat very quietly as the cobbler stumbled through the finely written sheets.
* * * * * "Mottville Corners, N. Y.
"Dear Mr. Grandoken," whispered Lafe.
"My girl will bring you this, and, in excuse for sending her, I will briefly state: I'm very near the grave, and she's in great danger. I want to tell you that her Uncle Jordan Morse has conquered me and will her, if she's not looked after. For her mother's sake, I ask you to take her if you can. She will repay you when she's of age, but until then, after I'm gone, she can't get any money unless through her uncle, and that would be too dangerous. When I say that my child's life isn't worth this paper if she is given over to Morse, you'll see the necessity of helping her. I don't know another soul I could trust as I am trusting you. The other letter Virginia will explain. Keep it to use against Morse if you need to.
"I can't tell you whether my girl is good or not, but I hope so. I've woefully neglected her, but now I wish I had a chance to live the past few years over. She'll tell you all she knows, which isn't much. What you do for her will be greatly appreciated by me, and would be by her mother, too, if she could understand her daughter's danger. "Gratefully yours, "THOMAS G. SINGLETON."
* * * * * The cobbler put down the paper, and the rattling of it made Jinnie raise her head.
"Come over here again," said the shoemaker, kindly. "Now tell me all about it."
"Didn't the letter tell you?"
"Some of it, yes. But tell me about yourself."
Lafe Grandoken listened as the girl recounted her past life with Matty, and when at the finish she remarked, "I had to bring Milly Ann----"