and, Peg, I was
wondering if I couldn't take the little kid up to the jail."

Peggy shook her head.

"They wouldn't let you in with 'im," she objected.

Jinnie thought a long time. Presently she laughed a little, chuckling
laugh.

"I know how to get him in there!"

"How?" asked Peggy, incredulously.

"Why, everybody knows I've been a shortwood girl. I'll roll him up in
a bundle----"

Peg's hand sought the little body under the covers protectingly.

"Oh, I won't hurt him, Peg," assured Jinnie. "We'll wrap him up the
first fine day! You can do it yourself, dear."

One week later Jinnie went slowly up the incline that led to the
prison. On her back was a shortwood strap filled with brush and small
twigs.

"I want to see Lafe Grandoken," she said.

To surprise Lafe she crept softly along the corridor until she halted
at his cell door. She could see him plainly, and the troubled lines
were almost erased from between his brows. She was glad of that, for
she wanted him to smile, to be "Happy in Spite."

She called his name and he turned, wheeling toward her.

"I hoped you'd be comin'," he said, smiling gravely. Then noting the
shortwood, he exclaimed, "Have you had to go to work again, lass?"

"Just for to-day," and Jinnie displayed her white teeth in a broad
smile. "I've brought you something, Lafe, and I wrapped it up in
shortwood."

The girl carefully slipped the strap from her shoulders and sat down
beside it on the floor. Watching eagerly, Lafe peered between the
bars, for surely his Peggy had sent him some token of her love. The
girl paused and looked up.

"Shut your eyes tight, Lafe," she commanded playfully.

Lafe closed his eyes, wrinkling down his lids. Then Jinnie lifted the
baby and uncovered the small face. The little chap opened his eyes and
yawned as the girl held him close to the bars.

"Now, Lafe, quick! Look! Ha! It's a Jew!"

The cobbler's eyes flew open, and he was staring squarely into a
small, rosy, open-eyed baby face. For a moment he thought he was
dreaming--dreaming a dream he had dreamed every night since the
thunder storm. He caught at his chin to stay the chattering of his
teeth.

"It ain't him, Jinnie, my Jew baby?" he murmured brokenly.

"Yes, 'tis," and she laughed. "It's your own little feller. I brought
him to get a kiss from his daddy. Kiss him! Kiss him smack on the
mouth, Lafe."

And Lafe kissed his baby--kissed him once, twice, and three times,
gulping hard af