When she was alone, Molly's anger decreased. She had an ally now worth having. She smiled delicately as she pa.s.sed up the stairs to her room, and the smile was brought to her lips because she remembered having begged Jordan to help her in this matter several times before. Then he had had no incentive, but to-day----Ah, now he would give her a divorce quietly! The social world in which she hoped to move would know nothing of her youthful indiscretion.

That night Jinnie and Peg were bending anxiously over a basket near the kitchen stove. All that human hands and hearts could do had been done for the suffering barn-cat. He had given no sign of consciousness, his breath coming and going in long, deep gasps.

"He'll die, won't he, Peg?" asked Jinnie, sorrowfully.

"Yes, sure. An' it'll be better for the beast, too." Peg said this tempestuously.

"I'd like to have him live," replied Jinnie. "Milly Ann mightn't love him, but she got used to Happy Pete, didn't she?"

"This feller," a.s.sured Peggy, wagging her head, "won't get used to anything more on this earth."

"Poor kitty," mourned Jinnie.

She was thinking of the beautiful world, the trees and the flowers, and the wonderful songs of nature amidst which the dying animal had existed.

"I hope he'll go to some nice place," she observed sadly, walking away from Mrs. Grandoken.

Later, after cogitating deeply, Jinnie expressed herself to the cobbler.

"Lafe, Lafe dear," she said, "it's all true you told me, ain't it?...

All about the angels and G.o.d?... The poor kitty's suffering awful.

He's got the Christ too, hasn't he, Lafe?"

The man looked into the agonized young face.

"Yes, child," he replied reverently, "he's got the Christ too, same's you an' me. G.o.d's in everything. He loves 'em all."

That night the girl sat unusually long with paper and pencil. Just before going to bed she placed a paper on the cobbler's knee.

"I wrote that hurt kitty some poetry," she said shyly.

Lafe settled his spectacles on his nose, picked up the sheet, and read:

"I'm n.o.body's cat and I've been here so long, In this world of sorrow and pain, I've no father nor mother nor home in this place, And must always stay out in the rain.

"Hot dish water, stones at me have been thrown, And one of my hind legs is lame; No wonder I run when I know the boys Come to see if I'm tame.

"I've a friend in the country, and he's n.o.body's dog, And his burdens're heavy as mine, He told me one day the boys had once tied A tin can to his tail with a line.

"Now they talk in the churches of G.o.d and his Son, Of Paradise, Heaven and h.e.l.l; Of a Savior who came on earth for mankind, And for His children all should be well.

"Now I'd like to know if G.o.d didn't make me, And cause me to live and all that?

I believe there's a place for n.o.body's child, And also for n.o.body's cat."

Mr. Grandoken lifted misty eyes.

"It's fine," he said, "an' every word true!... Every single word."

The next morning Jinnie went to the basket behind the stove. The cat was dead,--dead, in the same position in which she had left him the night before, and close to his nose was the meat Peggy had tried to entice him to eat. She lifted the basket and carried it into the shop.

"Poor little feller," said Lafe. "I 'spose you'll have to bury him, la.s.s."

Bobbie edged forward, and felt for Jinnie's fingers.

"Bury him on the hill, dearie, where you found me," he whispered.

"It's lovely there, and he can see my stars."

"All right," replied Jinnie, dropping her hand on the boy's golden head.

That afternoon, just before the funeral, Jinnie stood quietly in front of the cobbler.

"Lafe," she said, looking at him appealingly, "the kitty's happy even if he is dead, isn't he?"

"Sure," replied Lafe. "His angels've got charge of him, all right."

"I was wondering something," ventured the girl, thoughtfully.

"Couldn't we take him in the 'Happy in Spite'?... Eh, Lafe?"

Lake looked at her in surprise.

"I never thought of takin' anything dead in the club," said he dubiously.

"But he's happy, you said, Lafe?"

"He's happy enough, yes, sure!"

"Then let's take him in," repeated Jinnie eagerly.

"Let's take 'im in, cobbler," breathed Bobbie, pressing forward. "He wants to come in."

They lifted the cover of the basket, and there in quietude the barn-cat was sleeping his long last sleep.

Jinnie lifted one of the stiff little paws, and placed it in Lafe's fingers. The cobbler shook it tenderly.

"You're in the club, sir," said he in a thick, choked voice. Then Jinnie and Bobbie, carrying their precious dead comrade, started for the hill.

CHAPTER XXIV

"HE MIGHT EVEN MARRY HER"

"I don't see why you must have her out of the way entirely," hesitated Molly Merriweather, looking up into Jordan Morse's face. "Couldn't you send her to some girls' place?"

"Now you don't know anything about it, Molly," answered the man impatiently. "If she doesn't disappear absolutely, the cobbler and Theodore'll find her."