that'll keep the kid luggin' wood."

"I was wonderin'," returned Peg, "if we couldn't get some one
interested in 'er--the Kings, mebbe. They're a good sort, with lots of
money, an' are more'n smart."

Lafe's eyes brightened visibly, but saddened again. He shook his
head.

"We can't get the Kings 'cause I read in the paper last night they're
gone away West, to be gone for a year or more.... It's a good idea,
though. Some one'll turn up, sure."

"When they do, my man," Peg said quickly, "don't be takin' any credit
to yourself, 'cause you hadn't ought to take credit for the plannin'
your sharp brains do."

As he shook his head, smiling, she left him quickly and shut the
door.

CHAPTER X

ON THE BROAD BOSOM OF THE "HAPPY IN SPITE"

Thus for one year Jinnie went forth in the morning to gather her
shortwood, and to sell it in the afternoon.

Peg always gave her a biscuit to eat during her forenoon's work, and
Jinnie, going from house to house later, was often presented with a
"hunk of pie," as she afterwards told Lafe. If a housewife gave her an
apple, she would take it home to the cobbler and his wife.

Late one afternoon, at the close of a bitter day, Jinnie had finished
her work and was resting on the door sill of an empty house on an
uptown corner.

She drew forth her money in girlish pride. Twenty-seven cents was what
she'd earned,--two cents more than any day since she began working.
This money meant much to Jinnie. She hadn't yet received a kiss from
Mrs. Grandoken, but was expecting it daily. Perhaps when two cents
more were dropped into her hand, Peggy might, just for the moment,
forget herself and unwittingly express some little affection for her.

With this joyous anticipation the girl recounted her money, retained
sufficient change for the dinner meat, and slipped the rest into her
jacket pocket. She rose and had started in the direction of the market
when a clamor near the bridge made her pause. A crowd of men and boys
were running directly toward her. Above their wild shouts could be
heard the orders of a policeman, and now and then the frightened cry
of a small child.

At first Jinnie noticed only the people. Then her eyes lowered and she
saw, racing toward her, a small, black, woolly dog. The animal, making
a wild dash for his life, had in his anguish lost his mental balance,
for he took no heed as to where he ran nor what he struck. A louder
cry of derision rose up from many throats