Jinnie leaned forward and scrutinized him intently.

"You mean," she demanded brokenly, "that you can't see me, nor Happy Pete, nor the trees, nor the birds, nor the squirrels, skipping around?"

The boy bowed his head in a.s.sent, but brightened almost instantly.

"No, I can't see those things, but I've got lots of stars inside my head. They're as bright as anything, only sometimes my tears put 'em out."

Then, as if he feared he would lose his new friend, he felt for her hand once more.

Jinnie returned the clinging pressure. For the second time in her life her heart beat with that strange emotion--the protective instinct she had felt for her father. She knew at that moment she loved this little lad, with his wide-staring, unseeing eyes.

"I'm lost," said the boy, sighing deeply, "and I cried ever so long, but n.o.body would come, and my stars all went out."

"Tell me about your stars," she said eagerly. "Are they sky stars?"

"I dunno what sky stars are. My stars shine in my head lovely and I get warm. I'm cold all over and my heart hurts when they go out."

"Oh!" murmured Jinnie. "I wish they'd always shine."

"So do I." Then lifting an eager, sparkling face, he continued, "They're shinin' now, 'cause I found you."

"Where're your folks?" asked Jinnie, swallowing hard.

"I dunno. I lost 'em a long time ago, and went to live with Mag. She licked me every day, so--I just runned away--I've been here a awful long time."

Jinnie considered a moment before explaining an idea that had slipped into her mind as if it belonged there. She would take him home with her.

"You're going to Lafe's house," she announced presently. "Happy Pete and me and Peg live at Lafe Grandoken's home. Peggy makes bully soup."

"And I'm so hungry," sighed the boy. "Where's the dog I heard barking?"

He withdrew his hands, moving them outward, searching for something.

The girl tried to push Pete forward, but the dog only snuggled closer to her.

"Petey, dear, I'm ashamed of you!" she chided lovingly. "Can't you see the little fellow's trying to feel you?"

Then Happy Pete, as if he also were ashamed, came within reach of the wavering hands, and crouched low, to be looked over with ten slender finger tips.

"He's awful beautiful!" exclaimed the boy. "His hair's softer'n silk, and his body's as warm as warm can be."

Jinnie contemplated Happy Pete's points of beauty. Never before had she thought him anything more than a homely, lovable dog, with squat little legs, and a pointed nose. In lightninglike comparison she brought to her mind the things she always considered beautiful--the spring violets, the summer roses, that belt of wonderful color skirting the afternoon horizon, and all the wonders of nature of which her romantic world consisted. The contrast between these and the shaking black dog, with his smudge of tangled hair hanging over his eyes, shocked Jinnie's artistic sense.

"If----if you say he's beautiful, then he is," she stammered almost inaudibly.

"Of course he is! What's your name?"

"Jinnie. Jinnie Grandoken... What's yours?"

"Blind Bobbie, or sometimes just Bobbie."

"Well, I'll call you Bobbie, if you want me to.... I like you awful well. I feel it right in here."

She pressed the boy's fingers to her side.

"Oh, that's your heart!" he exclaimed. "I got one too! Feel it jump!"

Jinnie's fingers pressed the spot indicated by the little boy.

"My goodness," she exclaimed, "it'll jump out of your mouth, won't it?"

"Nope! It always beats like that!"

"Where's your mother?" asked Jinnie after a s.p.a.ce.

"I suppose she's dead, or Mag wouldn't a had me. I don't know very much, but I 'member how my mother's hands feel. They were soft and warm. She used to come to see me at the woman's house who died--the one who give me to Mag."

"She must have been a lovely mother," commented Jinnie.

"She were! Mag tried to find her 'cause she said she was rich, and when she couldn't, she beat me. I thought mebbe I'd find mother out in the street. That's why I run away."

Jinnie thought of her own dead father, and the child's halting tale brought back that one night of agony when Thomas Singleton died, alone and unloved, save for herself. She wanted to cry, but instead she murmured, "Happy in Spite," as Lafe had bidden her, and the melting mood vanished. The cobbler and his club were always wonderfully helpful to Jinnie.

"My mother told me onct," Bobbie went on, "she didn't have nothin' to live for. I was blind, you see, and wasn't any good--was I?"

The question, pathetically put, prompted Virginia to fling back a ready answer.

"You're good 'nough for me and Happy Pete," she a.s.serted, "and Lafe'll let you be his little boy too."

The blind child gasped, and the girl continued a.s.suringly, "Peg'll love you, too. She couldn't help it."

"Peg?" queried Bobbie.

"Oh, she's Lafe's wife. Happy Pete and me stay in her house."

The blind eyes flashed with sudden hope.

"Mebbe she'll love me a little! Will she?"

"I hope so. Anyway, Lafe will. He loves everybody, even dogs. He'll love you; _sure_ he will!"

The boy shook his head doubtfully.

"n.o.body but mothers are nice to blind kids. Well--well--'cept you. I'd like to go to Lafe's house, though, but mebbe the woman wouldn't want me."

Jinnie had her own ideas about this, but because the child's tears fell hot upon her hands, the mother within her grew to greater proportions. Three times she repeated softly, "Happy in Spite."

"Happy in Spite," she whispered again. Then she sat up with a brilliant smile.

"Of course I'm going to take you to Lafe's. Here at Lafe's my heart's awful busy loving everybody. Now I've got you I'm going to take care of you, 'cause I love you just like the rest. Stand up and let me wipe your nose."