Lafe uttered a surprised ejaculation.
"I couldn't let you do that, Peg," he said, shaking his head. "Them's the last left over from your mother's stuff. Everything else's gone.... I couldn't let you, Peggy."
Mrs. Grandoken gave a shake of defiance.
"Whose curtains be they, Lafe?" she asked. "Be they mine or yourn?"
"Yourn, Peggy dear, and may God bless you!"
All through the night Jinnie had dreadful dreams. The thought of either not going to Mr. King's or that she might not have anything fit to wear filled the hours with nightmares and worryings. In the morning, after she crawled out of bed and was wearily dressing Bobbie, the little blind boy felt intuitively something was wrong with his friend.
"Is Jinnie sick?" he whispered, feeling her face. "My stars ain't shinin' much."
The girl kissed him.
"No, honey," she said, "Jinnie's only sad, not sick."
Together they went into the shop, where Peggy stood with the most gorgeous lacy stuff draped over her arms. Strewn here and there over the yards and yards of it were bright yellow and red roses. Nothing could have been more beautiful to the girl, as with widening eyes she gazed at it. Lafe's face was shining with happiness. Peggy didn't seem to notice the two as they entered, but she lifted the lace, displaying its length stolidly.
Jinnie bounded forward.
"What is it, Peg? What is it?"
Lafe beamed through his spectacles.
"A dress for you, girl dear. Peggy's givin' you the things she loves best. She's the only woman in the world, Jinnie."
Reverently Jinnie went to Mrs. Grandoken's side. She felt abjectly humble in the presence of this great sacrifice. She looked up into the glum face of the cobbler's wife and waited in breathless hesitation. Peg permitted her eyes to fall upon the girl.
"You needn't feel so glad nor look's if you was goin' to tumble over," she said. "It ain't no credit to any one them curtains was on the shelf waitin' to be cut up in a dress for you to fiddle in. Go put the mush on that there stove!"