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diff --git a/28462.txt b/28462.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff28b90 --- /dev/null +++ b/28462.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13975 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose O'Paradise, by Grace Miller White + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rose O'Paradise + +Author: Grace Miller White + +Release Date: March 31, 2009 [EBook #28462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE O'PARADISE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: VIRGINA LEFT THE FARMHOUSE, CARRYING HER FIDDLE AND THE +PAIL OF CATS, AND THE BLIZZARD SWALLOWED HER UP.] + + + + +ROSE O' PARADISE + +BY + +GRACE MILLER WHITE + +AUTHOR OF + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY, ETC. + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +W. J. SHETTSLINE + +[Illustration] + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY + +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY + + + + +I lovingly dedicate this book + +to + +Rose and Will Scott + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Father and Daughter 9 + II. A White Presence 28 + III. Jinnie's Farewell to Molly the Merry 35 + IV. Jinnie Travels 42 + V. Like Unto Like Attracted 49 + VI. Peg's Bark 57 + VII. Just a Jew 62 + VIII. "Every Hand Shall Do Its Share," Quoth Peg. 70 + IX. By the Sweat of Her Brow 79 + X. On the Broad Bosom of the "Happy in Spite" 83 + XI. What Happened to Jinnie 89 + XII. Watching 95 + XIII. What Jinnie Found on the Hill 98 + XIV. "He's Come to Live With Us, Peggy" 105 + XV. "Who Says the Kid Can't Stay?" 110 + XVI. Jinnie's Ear Gets a Tweak 116 + XVII. Jinnie Discovers Her King's Throne 122 + XVIII. Red Roses and Yellow 129 + XIX. The Little Fiddler 136 + XX. The Cobbler's Secret 145 + XXI. The Coming of the Angels 152 + XXII. Molly's Discovery 163 + XXIII. Nobody's Cat 171 + XXIV. "He Might Even Marry Her" 179 + XXV. When Theodore Forgot 185 + XXVI. Molly Asks to Be Forgiven 192 + XXVII. "Haven't You Any Soul?" 196 + XXVIII. Jinnie Decides Against Theodore 201 + XXIX. Peg's Visit 207 + XXX. What the Fiddle Told Theodore 214 + XXXI. What Theodore Told His Friend 221 + XXXII. Jordan Morse's Plan 227 + XXXIII. The Murder 233 + XXXIV. The Cobbler's Arrest 240 + XXXV. Alone in the Shop 248 + XXXVI. Jinnie Explains the Death Chair to Bobbie 253 + XXXVII. What the Thunder Storm Brought 262 + XXXVIII. The Story of a Bird 268 + XXXIX. Jinnie's Visit to Theodore 274 + XL. An Appeal to Jinnie's Heart 281 + XLI. Jinnie's Plea 285 + XLII. Bobbie Takes a Trip 294 + XLIII. Theodore Sends for Molly 299 + XLIV. Molly Gives an Order to Jinnie 304 + XLV. Writing a Letter to Theodore 309 + XLVI. "Bust 'Em Out" 316 + XLVII. Bobbie's Stars Renew Their Shining 327 + XLVIII. For Bobbie's Sake 334 + XLIX. Back Home 341 + L. "God Made You Mine" 346 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + Virgina left the farmhouse, carrying her fiddle and + the pail of cats, and the blizzard swallowed her up. _Frontispiece_ + + "I guess they won't eat much, because Milly Ann + catches all kind of live things. I don't like her to + do that, but I heard she was born that way and can't + help it." 56 + + "You needn't feel so glad nor look as if you was + goin' to tumble over. It ain't no credit to anyone + them curtains was on the shelf waitin' to be cut up + in a dress for you to fiddle in." 136 + + "Play for me," Theodore said. "Stand by that big tree + so I can look at you." 216 + + + + +ROSE O' PARADISE + +CHAPTER I + +FATHER AND DAUGHTER + + +On a hill, reared back from a northern lake, stood a weather-beaten +farmhouse, creaking in a heavy winter blizzard. It was an +old-fashioned, many-pillared structure. The earmarks of hard winters +and the fierce suns of summer were upon it. From the main road it was +scarcely discernible, settled, as it was, behind a row of pine trees, +which in the night wind beat and tossed mournfully. + +In the front room, which faced the porch, sat a man,--a tall, thin +man, with straight, long jaws, and heavy overhanging brows. With moody +eyes he was staring into the grate fire, a fearful expression upon his +face. + +He straightened his shoulders, got up, and paced the floor back and +forth, stopping now and then to listen expectantly. Then again he +seated himself to wait. Several times, passionately insistent, he +shook his head, and it was as if the refusal were being made to an +invisible presence. Suddenly he lifted his face as the sound of a +weird, wild wail was borne to him, mingling with the elf-like moaning +of the wind. He leaned forward slightly, listening intently. From +somewhere above him pleading notes from a violin were making the night +even more mournful. A change came over the thin face. + +"My God!" he exclaimed aloud. "Who's playing like that?" + +He crossed the room and jerked the bell-rope roughly. In a few moments +the head of a middle-aged colored woman appeared at the door. + +"Did you tell my daughter I wanted to see her?" questioned the man. + +"No, sah, I didn't. When you got here she wasn't in. Then she slid to +the garret afore I saw 'er. Now she's got to finish her fiddlin' afore +I tell 'er you're here. I never bother Miss Jinnie when she's +fiddlin', sah." The old woman bowed obsequiously, as if pleading +pardon. + +The man made a threatening gesture. + +"Go immediately and send her to me," said he. + +For perhaps twenty minutes he sat there, his ears straining to catch, +through the whistling wind, the sounds of that wild, unearthly +tune,--a tune different from any he had ever heard. Then at length it +stopped, and he sank back into his chair. + +He turned expectantly toward the door. Footsteps, bounding with life, +with strength, were bearing down upon him. Suddenly a girl's face,--a +rosy, lovely face,--with rapturous eyes, was turned up to his. At the +sight of her stern father, the girl stopped, bringing her feet +together at the heels, and bowed. Then they two,--Thomas Singleton the +second and Virginia, his daughter,--looked at each other squarely. + +"Ah, come in!" said the man. "I want to talk with you. I believe +you're called Virginia." + +"Yes, sir; Jinnie, for short, sir," answered the girl, with a slight +inclination of her head. + +Awkwardly, and with almost an embarrassed manner, she walked in front +of the grate to the chair pointed out to her. The man glanced sharply +at the strongly-knit young figure, vibrant with that vital thing +called "life." He sighed and dropped back limply. There followed a +lengthy silence, until at last Thomas Singleton shifted his feet and +spoke slowly, with a grim setting of his teeth. + +"I have much to say to you. Sit back farther in your chair and don't +stare at me so." + +His tones were fretful, like those of a man sick of living, yet trying +to live. He dropped his chin into the palm of his hand and lapsed into +a meditative gloom. + +Virginia leaned back, but only in this did she obey, for her eyes were +still centered on the man in silent attention. She had little awe of +him within her buoyant young soul, but much curiosity lay under the +level, penetrating glance she bent upon her father. Here was a man +who, according to all the human laws of which Virginia had ever heard, +belonged to her, and to her alone. There were no other children and no +mother. Yet so little did she know of him that she wouldn't have +recognized him had she met him in the road. Singleton's uneasy glance, +seeking the yellow, licking flames in the grate, crossed hers. + +"I told you not to stare at me so, child!" he repeated. + +This time the violet eyes wavered just for an instant, then fastened +their gaze once more upon the speaker. + +"I don't remember how you look," she stammered, "and I'd like to know. +I can't tell if I don't look, can I?" + +Her grave words, and possibly the steady, piercing gaze, brought a +twitch to the father's lips. Surely his child had spoken the truth. He +himself had almost forgotten he had a girl; that she was the only +living creature who had a call upon the slender thread of his life. +Had he lived differently, the girl in front of him would have been +watching him for some other reason than curiosity. + +"That's why I'm looking at you, sir," she explained. "If any one on +the hills'd say, 'How's your father looking, Jinnie?' if I hadn't +looked at you sharp, sir, how'd I know?" + +She sighed as her eyes roved the length of the man once more. The +ashes in the grate were no grayer than his face. + +"You're awful thin and white," she observed. + +"I'm sick," replied Singleton in excuse. + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" answered Virginia. + +"You're quite grown up now," remarked the man presently, with a +meditative air. + +"Oh, yes, sir!" she agreed. "I'm a woman now. I'm fifteen years old." + +"I see! Well, well, you _are_ quite grown up! I heard you playing just +now. Where did you ever learn such music?" + +Jinnie placed her hand on her heart. "I got it out of here, sir," she +replied simply. + +Involuntarily Singleton straightened his rounded shoulders, and a +smile touched the corners of his mouth. Even his own desperate +condition for the moment was erased from his mind in the pride he felt +in his daughter. Then over him swept a great regret. He had missed +more than he had gained in his travels abroad, in not living with and +for the little creature before him. + +Her eyes were filled with contemplation; then the lovely face, in its +exquisite purity, saddened for a moment. + +"Matty isn't going to take me across her knee never any more," she +vouchsafed, a smile breaking like a ray of sunshine. + +The blouse slipped away from her slender throat, and she made a +picture, vivid and beautiful. The fatherhood within Thomas Singleton +bounded in appreciation as he contemplated his daughter for a short +space, measuring accurately the worth within her. He caught the +wonderful appeal in the violet eyes, and wished to live. God, how he +wanted to live! He would! He would! It meant gathering his supremest +strength, to be put forth in efforts of mere existing. Something out +of an unknown somewhere, brought to him through the stormy, wonderful +music he had heard, made the longing to live so vehement that it hurt. +Then the horror of Virginia's words drifted through his tortured +brain. + +"What?" he ejaculated. + +"Now I'm fifteen," explained the girl, "I get a woman's beating with a +strap, you see. A while ago I got one that near killed me, but I never +cried a tear. Matty was almost scared to death; she thought I was +dead. Matty can lick hard, Matty can." + +Virginia sighed in recollection. + +"You don't mean to say the nigger whipped you?" + +The girl shook her curly head. + +"Whipped me! No! Matty don't whip; she just licks with all her +muscle.... Matty's muscle's as strong as a tree limb." + +Mr. Singleton bowed his head. It had never occurred to him in all +those absent years that the child was being abused. How simply she had +told her tale of suffering! + +"But I'm fifteen now," she repeated gladly, "so I stand up, spread my +feet like this"--she rose and suited the action to the words--"and +Matty lays her on damn hard, too." + +He covered his mouth with one thin hand, choked down a cough, and +endeavored to change the subject. + +"And school? Have you been to school?" + +"Oh, yes!" assured the girl, sitting down again. "I went to school +back in the hills. There were only five boys and me. There wasn't any +girls. I wish there had been." + +"You like girls, I imagine, then," said her father. + +"Oh, yes, sir! Yes, indeed, sir! I often walk five miles to play a +while with one. None of the mothers around Mottville Corners'll let +their girls be with me. You see, this house has a bad name." + +A deep crimson dyed the man's ashen skin. He made as if to speak, but +Jinnie went on. + +"Over in the Willow Creek settlement the kids are awful bad, but I get +along with 'em fine, because I love 'em right out of being hellish." + +She was gazing straight into her father's face in all sincerity, with +no trace of embarrassment. + +"You know Mrs. Barker, the housekeeper you left me with?" she demanded +a little later. "Well, she died when I was ten. Matty stayed, thinking +every day you'd come home. I suppose mebbe I did grow up sort of +cussed, and I suppose everybody thinks I'm bad because I've only a +nigger to live with, and no mother, not--not even _you_." + +Singleton partly smothered an oath which lengthened itself into a +groan, looked long at the slim young figure, then at the piquant +face. + +"Just lately I've been wanting some one of my own to love," she +pursued. "I only had Milly and her cats. Then the letter come saying +you'd be here--and I'm very glad." + +The smile lighting her face and playing with the dimples in her cheeks +made Thomas Singleton feel as if Heaven's breath had touched him. + +"Do you care at all for me?" he asked gloomily. + +There had come over him a desire that this winsome girl,--winsome in +spite of her crudity,--would say she did. Wonder, love, sympathy, were +alive in her eyes. Jinnie nodded her head. + +"Oh, yes, sir!" she murmured. "Of course I love you! I couldn't tell +you how much.... I love--why, I even love Mose. Mose's Matty's man. +He stole and et up all our chickens--but I love him just the same. I +felt sorry about his killing the hens, because I loved them too." + +"I see," sighed the father. + +"Now there's Molly--I call her Molly the Merry----" + +"Who's Molly the Merry?" interrupted Singleton. + +"Old Merriweather's daughter. She's prettier than the summer roses, +and they're pretty, believe me. Her smiles're warmer'n the sun." + +"Ah, yes! I remember the Merriweathers. Is the old man still alive?" + +"Well, yes, but he's as good as dead, though. Ain't walked in three +years. And Matty's man, Mose, told Matty, and Matty told me, he's +meaner'n forty damn devils." + +"So you swear, too?" asked the father, breathing deeply. + +Virginia opened wide and wider two sparkling blue eyes. + +"Swear, sir?" she protested. "I didn't swear." + +"Pardon me," replied Singleton, laconically. "I thought I heard you +say 'damn' several times." + +Virginia's smile showed two rows of white teeth. + +"Oh, so you did!" she laughed, rising. "But 'damn' isn't swearing. You +ought to hear me really swear sometimes. Shall I show you how I--I can +swear?" + +Singleton shook his head. + +"I'd rather you wouldn't!... Sit down again, please." + +The man at intervals turned a pair of burning bright eyes upon her. +They weren't unlike her own eyes, only their expression puzzled +Virginia. + +She could not understand the rapid changes in her father. He wasn't +the man she had mentally known all these years. But then, all she had +had by which to visualize him was an old torn picture, turned face to +the wall in the garret. He didn't look at all like the painting--he +was thinner, older, and instead of the tender expression on the +handsome, boyish face, time had placed one of bitterness, anxiety, and +dread. He sat, crouched forward, stirring the grate fire, seemingly +lost in thought. Virginia remained quiet until he was ready to speak. + +"I'm going to die soon,--very soon." + +It was only natural that Virginia should show how his statement +shocked her. She grew deathly white, and an expression of misery knit +the lovely young face. + +"How soon?" she shivered, drawing back. + +"Perhaps to-night--perhaps not for weeks, but I must tell you +something before then." + +"All right," agreed Virginia, "all right.... I'm here." + +"I haven't been a good father to you," the man began after a pause, +"and I'm not sure I could do better if I should stay on here with you. +So I might as well go now as any time! Your mother would've done +differently if she'd lived. You look some like her." + +"I'm sorry I don't remember her," remarked Virginia apologetically. + +"She went away when you were too little even to know her. Then I left +you, too, though I don't suppose any one but her could have made you +happy." + +"Oh, I've been happy!" Jinnie asserted. "Old Aunt Matty and the +cats're all I need around, and I always have my fiddle. I found it in +the garret." + +It was easy to believe that she was telling the truth, for to all +appearances she looked happy and healthy. However, Mr. Singleton's +eyes darkened and saddened under the words. Nothing, perhaps, had ever +touched him so deeply. + +"It's no life for a girl of fifteen years to live with cats and +niggers," he muttered. + +One less firmly faithful to conscience would have acquiesced in this +truthful statement; not so Virginia. + +"Matty's a good nigger!" she insisted, passionately. "She'd do +anything she could for me!" + +Seemingly the man was not impressed by this, for his strong jaws were +set and unyielding upon the unlighted cigar clenched between his +teeth. + +"I might as well tell you to-night as to-morrow," he concluded, +dropping the cigar on the table. "Your mother left you her money and +property when she died." + +"I know it, sir, and it's a lot, too! Matty told me about it one night +along with 'er ghost stories, sir.... Ever heard Matty's ghost +stories, sir?" + +"No, but I didn't bring you here to talk about Matty. And tell me, +what makes you say 'sir' to me all the time?" + +His impatient tone, his sharp, rasping voice, didn't change Virginia's +respectful attitude. She only bent her head a trifle and replied: + +"Anybody must always say 'sir' to another body when she's kind of half +afraid of him, sir." + +She was composed for a moment, then went on: + +"It isn't every day your father comes home, sir, and I've waited a +long, long time. I'd be a hell of a kid if I couldn't muster up a +'sir' for you." + +Singleton glanced sidewise at his young daughter, bending his brows +together in a frown. + +"You're a queer sort of a girl, but I suppose it's to be expected when +you've only lived with niggers.... Now will you remember something if +I tell it to you?" + +"Yes, sir," breathed Virginia, drawing back a little from his strong +emotion. + +"Well, this! Don't ever say 'sir' to any human being living! Don't +ever! Do you understand me? What I mean is, when you say 'sir,' it's +as if you were--as if you were a servant or afraid--you make yourself +menial. Can you remember, child?" + +"Yes, sir,--yes, I'll remember.... I _think_ I'll remember." + +"If you're going to accomplish anything in the world, don't be afraid +of any one." + +A dozen explanations, like so many birds, fluttered through Virginia's +mind. Before her rose her world of yesterday, and a sudden apology +leapt to her lips. She turned on her father a wondering, sober +glance. + +"I've never said 'sir' or 'ma'am' before in all my life--never!" she +remarked. + +"So you're afraid of me?" + +"A little," she sighed. + +"Ah, don't be, child! I'm your father. Will you keep that in mind?" + +"I'll try to; I will, sure." + +Mr. Singleton shifted uneasily, as if in pain. + +"This money is coming to you when you're eighteen years old," +explained Mr. Singleton. "My dying will throw you into an ocean of +difficulties. I guess the only service I've ever done you has been to +keep your Uncle Jordan from you." + +"Matty told me about him, too," she offered. "He's a damn bad duffer, +isn't he, mister?" + +"Yes, and I'm going to ask you not to call me 'mister,' either. Look +here!... I'm your father! Can't anything get that into your head?" + +"I keep forgetting it," answered the girl sadly. "And you're so big +and thin and different from any man I know. You look as weak as a--as +a cat." + +She stretched forth her two strong legs, but sank back. + +"Yes, your Uncle Jordan is bad," proceeded Singleton, presently, "bad +enough to want to get us both out of the way, and he wouldn't find +much of an obstacle in you." + +A clammy chill clutched at Virginia's heart like tightening fingers. +The import of his words burned deep within her. She got to her +feet--but reseated herself at once at a wave of her father's hand. The +thought of death always had a sobering effect upon her--it filled her +with longing, yet dread. The beautiful young mother, whose picture +hung in the best room, and whose eyes followed her in every direction, +was dead. Matty had told her many times just how her mother had gone, +and how often the gentle spirit had returned to hover over the beloved +young daughter. Now the memory of it was enhanced by the roar of the +wind and the dismal moaning of the tall pines. Virginia firmly +believed that her mother, among other unearthly visitants, walked in +the night when the blizzard kept up its incessant beating. She also +believed that the sound through the pines--that roaring, +ever-changing, unhuman sound--was not of the wind's making. It was +voices,--spirit voices,--voices of the dead, of those who had gone +down into the small cemetery beyond the road. + +Only the day before Matty had told her how, one night, a tall, +wandering white thing had walked in silence across the fields to +Jonathan Woggles' house. In the story, Jonathan's grandpa was about to +pass away. The glittering spirit stalked around and around the house, +waiting for the old man's soul. She was about to relate the tale when +her father repeated: + +"Your uncle is bad enough to want us out of the way." + +The shuddering chill again possessed her. She was torn between horror +and eagerness--horror of what might be and eagerness to escape it. + +"But he can't get us out, can he?" she questioned. + +"Yes, I'm afraid he can and will! Your Uncle Jordan is your mother's +stepbrother, no direct relation to you, but the only one left to look +after you in the world but me. If you've any desire to live, you must +leave here after I've gone, and that's all there is to it!" + +Virginia then understood, for the first time, something of the danger +menacing her. Her heart beat and pounded like an engine ploughing up +hill. From sheer human desire of self-preservation, she partly rose +from the chair, with the idea of immediate departure. + +"I could go with Matty, couldn't I?" she suggested. + +Mr. Singleton made a negative gesture with his head, flinging himself +down again. + +"Matty? Matty, the nigger? No, of course not. Matty is nothing to any +one who hasn't money, and you'll have none to pay her, or any one +else, after I'm gone. You must eat and live for three long years. Do +you understand that?... Sit back in your chair and don't fidget," he +concluded. + +The girl obeyed, and a silence fell between them. The thought of the +wonderful white presence of which Matty had told her faded from her +mind. Her heart lay stone-like below her tightening throat, for her +former world and all the dear familiar things it held were to be +dashed from her, as a rose jar is broken on a marble floor, by a +single decision of the thin, tall father whom yesterday she had not +known. She understood that if her uncle succeeded in his wicked plans, +she, too, would join that small number of people, dead and buried, +under the pines. Her father's words brought the cemetery, with its +broken cross and headstones, its low toolhouse, and the restless night +spirits, closer than Matty, with her vivid, ghastly tales, had ever +done. In the past, Matty had stood between her and her fears; in the +future, there would be only a stranger, her uncle, the man her father +had just warned her against. At length Mr. Singleton coughed +painfully, and spoke with evident effort. + +"The doctor told me not long ago I might die at any moment. That's +what made me escape--I mean, what drove me home." + +He rose and walked nervously up and down the room. + +"The doctor made me think of you. I can't live long." + +"It's awful bad," answered the girl, sighing. "I wouldn't know where +to go if there wasn't any Matty--or--you." + +Her voice lowered on the last word, and she continued: "I wish I had +my mother. Matty says mothers kiss their girls and make over 'em like +Milly Ann does with her kittens--do they? Some of 'em?" + +The father glanced curiously into the small, earnest, uplifted face. + +"I couldn't help being your girl," pursued Virginia. "I'd have had +another father if I could, one who'd 've loved me. Matty says even +fathers like their kids sometimes--a little." She paused a minute, a +wan, sweet smile passing over her lips. "But I've got Milly Ann and +her kittens, and they're soft and warm and wriggley." + +What a strange child was this daughter of his! She spoke of cats as if +they were babies; of loving as if it were universal. Each moment, in +her presence, he realized more and more what he had missed in thus +neglecting her. But he had hurried to Mottville from foreign lands to +perform one duty, at least,--to save her, if possible. So he returned +to his vital subject. + +"Your Uncle Jordan's coming, perhaps this week. He's found out I'm +here! That's why you must go away." + +"Shall I--just go?" queried Virginia. "I don't know of any special +place--do you?" and she shivered again as the wind, in a fierce gust, +blew out from the slumbering fire a wreath of smoke that encircled the +room and hung grey-blue about the ceiling. + +"I only know one man," reflected Mr. Singleton, presently, "and you'll +have to find him yourself--after I've gone, of course; but if Jordan +Morse should come, you'd have to go quickly." + +"I'd go faster'n anything," decided the girl, throwing up her head. + +"Your mother's father used to have a family in his tenement house on +this place, and they were all very fond of her when she was a girl. +One of the sons moved to Bellaire. He's the only one left, and would +help you, I know." + +"Mebbe if you'd talk to my uncle----" Virginia cut in. + +An emphatic negative gesture frightened her. + +"You don't know him," said Singleton, biting his lips. "He's nearer +being a devil than any other human being." It was a feeling of +bitterness, of the deadly wrong done him, that forced him to sarcasm. +"The great--the good Jordan Morse--bah!" he sneered. "If he's 'good,' +so are fiends from perdition." + +He sent the last words out between his teeth as if he loathed the idea +expressed in them. If they brought a sombre red to the girl's cheeks, +it was not because she did not have sympathy with him. + +Sudden leaping flames of passion yellowed the man's eyes, and he +staggered up. + +"May God damn the best in him! May all he loves wither and blight! May +black Heaven break his heart----" + +Jinnie sprang forward and clutched him fiercely by the arm. "Don't! +Don't!" she implored. "That's awful, awful!" + +Singleton sank back, brushing his foaming lips with the back of his +hand. + +"Well," he muttered, "he followed me abroad and did for me over +there!" + +"Did for you?" Virginia repeated after him, parrot-like, gazing at him +in a puzzled way as she sat down again. + +"Yes, me! If I'd had any sense, I might have known his game. In the +state of his finances he'd no business to come over at all. But I +didn't know until he got there how evil he was. Oh, God! I wish I +had--but I didn't, and now my only work left is to send you +somewhere----Oh, why didn't I know?" + +The deep sadness, the longing in his voice brought Virginia to her +feet once more. She wanted to do something for the thin, sick man +because she loved him--just that! Years of neglect had failed to kill +in the young heart the cherished affection for her absent parent, and +in some subtle way he now appealed to the mother within her, as all +sick men do to all heart-women. + +"I'd like to help you if I could, father," she said. + +The man, with a quick, spasmodic action, drew her to him. Never had he +seen such a pair of eyes! They reminded him of Italian skies under +which he had dreamed brave dreams--dreamed dreams which would ever be +dreams. The end of them now was the grave. + +"Little girl! My little girl!" he murmured, caressing her shoulders. +Then he caught himself sharply, crushing the sentiment from his +voice. + +"Hide yourself; change your name; do anything to keep from your uncle. +When you're old enough to handle your own affairs, you can come out of +your hiding-place--do you understand me?" + +"I think I do," she said, tears gathering under her lids. + +"I don't know of any one I could trust in this county. Jordan Morse +would get 'em all under his spell. That would be the last of you. For +your mother's sake----" His lips quivered, but he went on with a +masterful effort to choke down a sob,--"I may honestly say, for your +own sake, I want you to live and do well." + +There was some strain in his passionate voice that stirred terrific +emotion in the girl, awakening new, tumultuous impulses. It gave her a +mad desire to do something, something for her father, something for +herself. At that moment she loved him very much indeed and was ready +to go to any length to help him. He had told her she must leave. +Perhaps---- + +Virginia glanced through the window into the darkness. Through the +falling snow she could see a giant pine throw out appealing arms. They +were like beckoning, sentient beings to the girl, who loved nature +with all the passionate strength of her young being. Yet to-night they +filled her with new wonder,--an awe she had never felt before. Despite +her onrushing thoughts, she tried to calm her mind, to say with eager +emphasis: + +"Shall I run to-night--now?" + +"No, not to-night; don't leave me yet. Sit down in the chair again; +stay until I tell you." + +"All right," murmured Virginia, walking away. + +The father watched the fire a few minutes. + +"I'll give you a letter to Grandoken, Lafe Grandoken," he said +presently, looking up. "For your mother's sake he'll take you, and +some day you can repay him. You see it's this way: Your mother trusted +your uncle more than she did me, or she'd never have given you into +his care in case of my death. Well, he's got me, and he'll get you." + +With no thought of disobedience, Virginia slipped from the chair to +her feet. + +"He won't get me if I run now, will he?" she questioned breathlessly; +"not if I go to--what'd you say his name was?" + +She was all excitement, ready to do whatever she was bidden. Slowly, +as she stood there, the tremendous suspense left her. + +"Why couldn't we both go, you and me?" she entreated eagerly. "Let's +both go to-night. I'll take care of you. I'll see you don't get wet." + +Her glance met and held his for a few seconds. The vibrant voice +thrilled and stirred the father as if he had been dead and suddenly +slipped back to life again. A brave smile, tenderly sweet, broke over +Virginia's lips. + +"Come," she said, holding out her hands. "Come, I'll get my fiddle and +we'll go." + +He was struck by the vehemence of her appeal. He allowed himself to +listen for a moment--to overbalance all his preconceived plans, but +just then his past life, Jordan Morse, his own near approaching end, +sank into his mind, and the fire in his eyes went out. There was +finality in the shake of his shoulders. + +"No, no," he murmured, sinking back. "It's too late for me. I couldn't +earn money enough to feed a pup. I'm all to pieces--no more good to +any one. No, you'll have to go alone." + +"I'm sorry." The girl caught her breath in disappointment. She was +crying softly and made no effort to wipe away her tears. + +The silent restraint was broken only by the ticking of the shadowy +clock on the mantel and Virginia's broken sobs. She stifled them back +as her father spoke comfortingly. + +"Well, well, there, don't cry! If your mother'd lived, we'd all 've +been better." + +"I wish she had," gasped the girl, making a dash at her eyes. "I wish +she'd stayed so I'd 've had her to love. Perhaps I'd 've had you, too, +then." + +"There's no telling," answered Singleton, drawing up to his desk and +beginning to write. + +Virginia watched the pen move over the white page for a space, her +mind filled with mixed emotions. Then she turned her eyes from her +father to the grate as a whirl of ashes and smoke came out. + +Matty's story came back to her mind, and she glanced toward the +window, but back to the fire quickly. The blizzard seemed to rage in +sympathy with her own riotous thoughts. As another gust of wind +rattled the casements and shook down showers of soot from the chimney, +Virginia turned back to the writer. + +"It's the ghosts of my mother's folks that make that noise," she +confided gently. + +"Keep quiet!" ordered Singleton, frowning. + +After the letters were finished and sealed, Mr. Singleton spoke. +"There! I've done the best I can for you under the circumstances. Now +on this,"--he held up a piece of paper--"I've written just how you're +to reach Grandoken's in Bellaire. These letters you're to give to him. +This one let him open and read." Mr. Singleton tapped a letter he held +up. "In this one, I've written what your uncle did to me. Give it to +Grandoken, telling him I said to let it remain sealed unless Jordan +Morse claims you. If you reach eighteen safely, burn the letter." + +He paused and took out a pocketbook. + +"Money is scarce these days, but take this and it'll get you to +Grandoken's. It's all I have, anyway. Now go along to bed." + +He handed the envelopes to her, and his hand came in contact with +hers. The very touch of it, the warmth and life surging through her, +gave a keener edge to his misery. + +Virginia took the letters and money. She walked slowly to the door. At +the threshold she halted, turning to her father. + +"May I take the cats with me?" she called back to him. + +She started to explain, but he cut her words off with a fierce +ejaculation. + +"Hell, yes!" he snapped. "Damn the cats! Get out!" + +Once in the hall, Virginia stood and looked back upon the closed +door. + +"I guess he don't need me to teach him swear words," she told herself +in a whisper. + +Then she went down to the kitchen, where Matty sat dreaming over a +wood fire. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A WHITE PRESENCE + + +"Does yer pa want me?" grunted Matty, lifting a tousled black head. + +Virginia made a gesture of negation. + +"No, he told me to get the hell out," she answered. "So I got! He's +awful sick! I guess mebbe he'll die!" + +Matty nodded meaningly. + +"Some folks might better 'a' stayed to hum for the past ten years than +be runnin' wild over the country like mad," she observed. + +Virginia reached behind the stove and drew Milly Ann from her bed. + +"Father"--Jinnie enjoyed using the word and spoke it lingeringly--"says he +wishes he'd stayed here now. You know, my Uncle Jordan, Matty----" She +hesitated to confide in the negro woman what her father had told her. So +she contented herself with: + +"He's coming here soon." + +Matty rolled her eyes toward the girl. + +"I'se sorry for that, honey bunch." Then, without explaining her +words, asked: "Want me to finish about Jonathan Woggles' grandpa +dyin'?" + +But Virginia's mind was traveling in another channel. + +"Where's Bellaire, Matty?" she demanded. + +"Off south," replied the woman, "right bearin' south." + +"By train?" + +"Yes, the same's walkin' or flying'," confirmed Matty. "Jest the +same." + +"Then you can finish the story now, Matty," said Virginia presently. + +Matty settled back in her chair, closed her eyes, and began to hum. + +"How far'd I tell last night?" she queried, blinking. + +"Just to where the white thing was waiting for Grandpa Woggles' +spirit," explained Virginia. + +"Oh, yas. Well, round and round that house the white shadder swep', +keepin' time to the howlin' of other spirits in the pine trees----" + +"But there aren't any pine trees at Woggles'," objected Virginia. + +"Well, they'd be pines if they wasn't oaks," assured Matty. "Oaks or +pines, the spirits live in 'em jest the same." + +"I 'spose so," agreed Virginia. "Go on!" + +"An' round and round he went, meltin' the snow with his hot feet," +mused Matty, sniffing the air. "And in the house Betty Woggles set +beside the old man, holdin' his hand, askin' him to promise he +wouldn't die.... Hum! As if a human bein' could keep from the stalkin' +whiteness beckonin' from the graveyard. 'Tain't in human power." + +"Can't anybody keep death away, Matty?" inquired Virginia, an +expression of awe clouding her eyes. + +She was thinking of the man upstairs whom she but twice had called +"father." + +"Nope, not after the warnin' comes to him. Now Grandad Woggles had +that warnin' as much as three days afore the angel clim' the fence and +flopped about his house. But don't keep breakin' in on me, little +missy, 'cause I cain't finish if ye do, and I'se jest reachin' the +thrillin' part." + +"Oh, then hurry," urged Jinnie. + +"Well, as I was sayin', Betty set by the ole man, starin' into his +yeller face; 'twas as yeller as Milly Ann's back, his face was." + +"Some yeller," murmured Virginia, fondling Milly Ann. + +"Sure! Everybody dyin' gets yeller," informed Matty. + +Virginia thought again of the sick man upstairs. His face was white, +not yellow, and her heart bounded with great hope. He might live yet a +little while. Yes, he surely would! Matty was an authority when she +told of the dead and dying, of the spirits which filled the pine +trees, and it seldom occurred to Virginia to doubt the black woman's +knowledge. She wanted her father to live! Life seemed so dizzily upset +with no Matty, with no Milly Ann, and no--father, somewhere in the +world. Matty's next words, spoken in a sepulchral whisper, bore down +on her with emphasis. + +"Then what do ye think, honey bunch?" + +"I don't know!" Virginia leaned forward expectantly. + +"Jest as Betty was hangin' fast onto her grandpa's spirit, another +ghost, some spots of black on him, come right longside the white one, +wavin' his hands's if he was goin' to fly." + +Virginia sat up very straight. Two spirits on the scene of Grandpa +Woggles' passing made the story more interesting, more thrilling. Her +sparkling eyes gave a new impetus to the colored woman's wagging +tongue. + +"The white spirit, he sez, 'What _you_ hangin' round here fer?'" + +Matty rolled her eyes upward. "This he sez to the black one, mind +you!" + +Virginia nodded comprehendingly, keeping her eyes glued on the shining +dark face in front of her. She always dreaded, during the exciting +parts of Matty's nightly stories, to see, by chance, the garden, with +its trees and the white, silent graveyard beyond. And, although she +had no fear of tangible things, she seldom looked out of doors when +Matty crooned over her ghost stories. + +Just then a bell pealed through the house. + +Matty rose heavily. + +"It's yer pa," she grumbled. "I'll finish when I git back." + +Through the door the woman hobbled, while Virginia bent over Milly +Ann, stroking her softly with a new expression of gravity on the young +face. Many a day, in fancy, she had dreamed of her father's +homecoming. He was very different than her dreams. Still she hoped the +doctor might have made a mistake about his dying. A smile came to the +corners of her mouth, touched the dimples in her cheek, but did not +wipe the tragedy from her eyes. She was planning how tenderly she +would care for him, how cheerful he'd be when she played her fiddle +for him. + +She heard Matty groping up the stairs--heard her pass down the hall +and open the door. Then suddenly she caught the sound of hurried steps +and the woman coming down again. Matty had crawled up, but was almost +falling down in her frantic haste to reach the kitchen. Something +unusual had happened. Virginia shoved Milly Ann to the floor and stood +up. Matty's appearance, with chattering teeth and bulging eyes, +brought Jinnie forward a few steps. + +"He's daid! Yer pa's daid!" shivered Matty. "And the house is full of +spirits. They're standin' grinnin' in the corners. I'm goin' hum now, +little missy. I'm goin' to my ole man. You'd better come along fer +to-night." + +Jinnie heard the moaning call of the pine trees as the winter's voice +swept through them,--the familiar sound she loved, yet at which she +trembled. Confused thoughts rolled through her mind; her father's fear +for her; his desire that she should seek another home. She could not +stay in Mottville Corners; she could not go with Matty. No, of course +not! Yet her throat filled with longing sobs, for the old colored +woman had been with her many years. + +By this time Matty had tied on her scarf, opened the door, and as +Virginia saw her disappear, she sank limply to the floor. Milly Ann +rubbed her yellow back against her young mistress's dress. Virginia +caught her in her arms and drew her close. + +"Kitty, kitty," she sobbed, "I've got to go! He said I could take you +and your babies, and I will, I will! I won't leave you here with the +spirits." + +She rose unsteadily to her feet and went to the cupboard, where she +found a large pail. Into this she folded a roller towel. She then +lifted the kittens from the box behind the stove and placed them in +the pail, first pressing her lips lovingly to each warm, wriggley +little body. Milly Ann cuddled contentedly with her offspring as the +girl covered them up. + +Jinnie had suddenly grown older, for a responsibility rested upon her +which no one else could assume. + +To go forth into the blizzard meant she must wrap up warmly. This she +did. Then she wrapped a small brown fiddle in her jacket, took the +pail and went to the door. There she stood, considering a moment, with +her hand on the knob. With no further hesitancy she placed the kittens +and fiddle gently on the floor, and went to the stairs. The thought of +the spirits made her shiver. She saw long shadows making lines here +and there, and had no doubt but that these were the ghosts Matty had +seen. She closed her eyes tightly and began to ascend the stairs, +feeling her way along the wall. At the top she opened reluctant lids. +The library door stood ajar as Matty had left it, and the room +appeared quite the same as it had a few moments before, save for the +long figure of a man lying full length before the grate. That eternal +period, that awful stop which puts a check on human lives, had settled +once and for all the earthly concerns of her father. The space between +her and the body seemed peopled with spectral beings, which moved to +and fro in the dimly lit room. Her father lay on his back, the flames +from the fire making weird red and yellow twisting streaks on his +white, upturned face. + +The taut muscles grew limp in the girl's body as she staggered forward +and stood contemplating the wide-open, staring eyes. Then with a long +sigh breathed between quivering lips, she dropped beside the lifeless +man. The deadly forces eddying around her were not of her own making. +With the going of this person, who was her father by nature, +everything else had gone too. All her life's hopes had been dissolved +in the crucible of death. She lay, with her hands to her mouth, +pressing back the great sobs that came from the depths of her heart. +She reached out and tentatively touched her father's cheek; without +fear she moved his head a little to what she hoped would be a more +comfortable position. + +"You told me to go," she whispered brokenly, "and I'm going now. You +never liked me much, but I guess one of my kisses won't hurt you." + +Saying this, Jinnie pressed her lips twice to those of her dead +father, and got to her feet quickly. She dared not leave the lamp +burning, so within a short distance of the table she drew a long +breath and blew toward the smoking light. The flame flared thrice like +a torch, then spat out, leaving the shivering girl to feel her way +around the room. To the sensitive young soul the dark was almost +maddening. She only wanted to get back to Milly Ann, and she closed +the door with no thought for what might become of the man inside. He +was dead! A greater danger menaced her. He had warned her and she +would heed. As she stumbled down the stairs, her memories came too +swiftly to be precise and in order, and the weird moans of the night +wind drifted intermittently through the wild maze of her thoughts. She +would say good-bye to Molly the Merry, for Molly was the only person +in all the country round who had ever spoken a kindly word to her. +Their acquaintance had been slight, because Molly lived quite a +distance away and the woman had never been to see her, but then of +course no one in the neighborhood approved of the house of Singleton. + +Later by five minutes, Virginia left the dark farmhouse, carrying her +fiddle and the pail of cats, and the blizzard swallowed her up. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JINNIE'S FAREWELL TO MOLLY THE MERRY + + +Virginia turned into the Merriweather gate, went up the small path to +the kitchen, and rapped on the door. There was no response, so she +turned the handle and stepped into the room. It was warm and +comfortable. A teakettle, singing on the back of the stove, threw out +little jets of steam. Jinnie placed the pail on the floor and seated +herself in a low chair with her fiddle on her lap. Molly would be back +in a minute, she was sure. Just as she was wondering where the woman +could be, she heard the sound of voices from the inner room. A swift +sensation of coming evil swept over her, and without taking thought of +consequences, she slipped under the kitchen table, drawing the pail +after her. The long fringe from the red cloth hung down about her in +small, even tassels. The dining room door opened and she tried to +stifle her swiftly coming breaths. Virginia could see a pair of legs, +man's legs, and they weren't country legs either. Following them were +the light frillings of a woman's skirts. + +"It's warmer here," said Miss Merriweather's voice. + +Molly and the man took chairs. From her position Virginia could not +see his face. + +"Your father's ill," he said in a voice rich and deep. + +"Yes," replied Molly. "He's been near death for a long time. We've had +to give him the greatest care. That's why I haven't told him +anything." + +The man bent over until Jinnie could see the point of his chin. + +"I see," said he.... "Well, Molly, are you glad to have me back?" + +Molly's face came plainly within Jinnie's view. At his question the +woman went paler. Then the man leaned over and tried to take one of +her hands. But she drew it away again and locked her fingers together +in her lap. + +"Aren't you glad to see me back again?" he repeated. + +Molly's startled eyes came upward to his face. + +"I don't know--I can't tell--I'm so surprised and----" + +"And glad," laughed the stranger in a deep, mesmeric voice. "Glad to +have your husband back once more, eh?" + +Virginia's start was followed quickly by an imploration from Molly. + +"Hush, hush, please don't speak of it!" + +"I certainly shall speak of it; I certainly shall. I came here for no +other reason than that. And who would speak of it if I didn't?" + +Molly shivered. There was something about the man's low, modulated +tones that repelled Virginia. She tried in vain to see his face. She +was sure that nowhere in the hills was there such a man. + +"You've been gone so long I thought you'd forgotten or--or were dead," +breathed Molly, covering her face with her hands. + +"Not forgotten, but I wasn't able to get back." + +"You could have written me." + +The man shrugged himself impatiently. + +"But I didn't. Don't rake up old things; please don't. Molly, look at +me." + +Molly uncovered a pair of unwilling eyes and centered them upon his +face. + +"What makes you act so? Are you afraid?" + +"I did not expect you back, that's all." + +"That's not it! Tell me what's on your mind.... Tell me." + +Molly's white lids fell, her fingers clenched and unclenched. + +"I didn't--I couldn't write," she whispered, "about the baby." + +"Baby!" The word burst out like a bomb. The man stood up. "Baby!" he +repeated. "You mean my--our baby?" + +Molly swallowed and nodded. + +"A little boy," she said, in a low voice. + +"Where is he?" demanded the man. + +"Please, please don't ask me, I beg of you. I want to forget----" + +"But you can't forget you're married, that you've been the mother of a +child and--and--that I'm its father." + +Molly's tears began to flow. Virginia had never seen a woman cry +before in all her young life. It was a most distressing sight. +Something within her leaped up and thundered at her brain. It ordered +her to venture out and aid the pretty woman if she could. Jinnie was +not an eavesdropper! She did not wish to hear any more. But fear kept +her crouched in her awkward position. + +"I just want to forget if I can," Molly sobbed. "I don't know where +the baby is. That's why I want to forget. I can't find him." + +"Can't find him? What do you mean by 'can't find him'?" + +Molly faced about squarely, suddenly. + +"I've asked you not to talk about it. I've been terribly unhappy and +so miserable.... It's only lately I've begun to be at all +reconciled." + +"Nevertheless, I _will_ hear," snapped the man angrily. "I _will_ +hear! Begin back from the letter you wrote me." + +"Asking you to help me?" questioned the girl. + +"Yes, asking me to help you, if you want to be blunt. Molly, it won't +make you any happier to hatch up old scores. I tell you I've come to +make amends--to take you--if you will----" + +"And I repeat, I can't go with you!" + +"We'll leave that discussion until later. Begin back where I told you +to." + +Molly's face was very white, and her lids drooped wearily. Virginia +wanted so much to help her! She made a little uneasy movement under +the table, but Molly's tragic voice was speaking again. + +"My father'd kill me if he knew about it, so I never told him or any +one." + +"Including me," cut in the man sarcastically. + +"You didn't care," said Molly with asperity. + +"How do you know I didn't care? Did you tell me? Did you? Did I +know?" + +Molly shook her head. + +"Then I insist upon knowing now, this moment!" + +"My father would have killed me----" + +"Well!" His voice rushed in upon her hesitancy. + +"When I couldn't stay home any longer, I went away to visit a cousin +of my mother's. At least, my father thought I'd gone there. I only +stayed with Bertha a little while and father never knew the truth of +it." + +"And then after that?" + +"I didn't know what to do with my baby. I was afraid people'd say I +wasn't married, and then father----" + +"Go on from the time you left your cousin's." + +Molly thought a minute and proceeded. + +"I looked in all the papers to find some one who wanted a baby----" + +"So you gave him away? Well, that's easy to overcome. You couldn't +give my baby away, you know." + +"No, no, indeed! I didn't give him away.... I boarded him out and +saved money to pay for him. I even took summer boarders. The woman who +had him----" + +Molly's long wait prompted the man once more. + +"Well?" he said again. "The woman what?" + +"The woman began to love the baby very much, and she wasn't very poor, +and didn't need the money. Lots of times I went with it to her, and +she wouldn't take it." + +A thought connected with her story made Molly bury her face in her +hands. The man touched her. + +"Go on," he said slowly. "Go on. And then?" + +"Then once when I went to her she said she was going to take the baby +on a little visit to some relatives and would write me as soon as she +got back." + +"Yes," encouraged the low voice. + +"She never wrote or came back. I couldn't find where she'd gone, and +father was terribly ill, and I've hoped and hoped----" + +"How long since you last saw him?" + +Molly considered a moment. + +"A long time," she sighed. + +"How many years?" + +"One!" + +"Then he was almost seven years with the woman?" + +"Yes," breathed Molly, and they lapsed into silence. + +The man meditated a space and Jinnie heard a low, nervous cough come +from his lips. + +"Molly," he said presently, "I'm going to have a lot of money soon. It +won't be long, and then we'll find him and begin life all over." + +"Oh, I'd love to find him," moaned Molly, "but I couldn't begin over +with you. It's all hateful and horrible now." + +The man leaned over and touched her, not too tenderly. When Molly's +face was turned to him, he tilted her chin up. + +"You care for some one else?" he said abruptly. + +The droop of the girl's head was his answer. He stood up suddenly. + +"That's it! That's it! What's his name?" + +A shake of her head was all the answer Molly gave him. + +"I asked you his name. Get up! Stand up!" + +As if to force her to do his will, he took hold of her shoulders +sharply and drew her upward. + +"What's his name?" + +"It doesn't matter." + +"What's his name?" + +Virginia did not catch Molly's whisper. + +A disbelieving grunt fell from the stranger's lips. + +"I remember him as a boy. Weren't they one summer at the Mottville +Hotel? He's years younger than you." + +Molly gathered courage. + +"He doesn't know how old I am," she responded, "and his mother loves +me, too. They were with me three summers." Then, remembering the man's +statement, she added, "Ages don't count nowadays. And I _will_ be +happy." + +"You'll get happiness with _me_, not with _him_," said an angry voice. +"Has he ever told you he loved you?" + +"No, no, indeed not. But he was here to-day! His mother's ill and +wanted me to come as her companion, but I couldn't leave father right +now." + +"Does he know you love him?" + +An emphatic negative ejaculation from Molly brought a sigh of relief +from the man. + +"Forget him!" said he. "Now I'm going. I shall come back to-night, and +_remember_ this. I'll leave no stone unturned to find that boy. I've +always longed for one, and I'll move Heaven and earth to find him." + +Virginia saw him whirl about, open the door, and stride out. + +Molly Merriweather stood for a few minutes in silence, trembling. + +"I didn't dare to tell him the baby was blind," she whispered, too low +for Jinnie to hear. + +Then she slowly glided away, leaving the girl under the table, with +her pail full of cats, and the fiddle. Presently Virginia crawled out +cautiously, the pail on her arm, and hugging her fiddle, she opened +the door swiftly, and disappeared down the road, running under the +tall trees. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +JINNIE TRAVELS + + +Virginia took the direction leading to the station. Many a time she +had watched the trains rush by on their way to New York, but never in +those multitudinous yesterdays had it entered her mind that some day +she would go over that same way, to be gone possibly forever. The wind +was blowing at such a terrific rate that Jinnie could scarcely walk. +There was no fear in her heart, only deep solemnity and a sense of awe +at the magnificence of a storm. She had left the farmhouse so suddenly +that the loneliness of parting had not then been forced upon her as it +was now; the realization was settling slowly upon the clouded young +mind. + +She was a mere puppet in the hands of an inexorable fate, which had +shown her little mercy or benevolence. + +Out of sight of the Merriweather homestead, she kept to the path along +the highway, now and then shifting the pail from one hand to the +other, and clasping the beloved fiddle to her breast. Once she looked +down to find Milly Ann peeping above the rim of the pail. Jinnie could +see the glint of her greenish eyes. She stopped and, with a tenderly +spoken admonition, covered her more closely with the roller towel. +When the lighted station-house glimmered through the falling snow, +Jinnie sighed with relief. + +"I couldn't 've carried you and the fiddle much farther, Milly Ann," +she murmured. + +At that moment a tall figure, herculean in size, loomed out of the +night and advanced hastily. The man's head was bent forward against +the storm. Virginia caught a glimpse of his face as he passed in the +streak of light thrown out from the station. + +He sprang to the platform and disappeared in the doorway. Jinnie saw +him plainly when she, too, entered, and her eyes followed him as he +went out. + +She had never seen him before. Like the man in the Merriweather +kitchen, he bore the stamp of the city upon him. + +Virginia bought her ticket as her father had directed, and while the +pail was still on the floor, she bent to examine Milly Ann and the +kittens. The latter were asleep, but the mother-cat lazily opened her +eyes to greet, with a purr, the soft touch of Jinnie's fingers. The +girl waited inside the room until the shriek of the engine's whistle +told her of its approach; then, with the fiddle and the pail, she +walked to the platform. + +The long, snakelike train was edging the hill, its headlight bearing +down the track in one straight, glittering line. + +For the first time in her life, Jinnie felt really afraid. In other +days, with beating heart, she had hugged close to the roadside as the +monster slipped either into the station and stopped, or rushed around +the curve. Tonight she was going aboard, over into a strange land +among strange people. + +She tilted the pail lovingly and hugged a little more tightly the +fiddle in her arm. Whatever happened, she had Milly, her little +family, and the comforting music. Jinnie could never be quite alone +with these. As the train slowed up, the conductor jumped down. + +It seemed to Virginia like a dream as she walked toward the steps at +the end of the car. As she was about to lift her foot to climb up, she +heard a voice say: + +"Let me help you, child. Here, I'll take the pail." + +Virginia looked upward into the face of a man,--the same face she had +seen in the station a few moments before,--and around the handsome +mouth was a smile of reassuring kindliness. + +She surrendered the pail with a burning blush, and felt, with a +strange new thrill, a firm hand upon her arm. The next thing she knew +she was in a seat, with the pail on the floor and the fiddle lying +beside her. + +She gazed around wonderingly. There was no one in sight but the tall +man who, across the aisle, was arranging his overcoat on the back of +the seat. Jinnie looked at him with interest--he had been so kind to +her--and noted his thick, blond hair, which had been cropped close to +a massive head. She admired him, too. Suddenly he looked up, and the +girl felt a clutch at her heart. Just why that happened she could not +tell. Again came the charming smile, the parted lips showing a set of +dazzling white teeth. + +Jinnie smiled back, responsively. The man came over. + +"May I sit beside you?" he asked. + +Jinnie moved the fiddle invitingly and huddled herself into the +corner. When the man started to move the pail, Jinnie stayed him. + +"Oh, don't, please," she protested. "It's only Milly and----" + +"Milly and what?" quizzically came the question. + +"Her kitties--see?" + +She drew aside the towel and exposed the sleeping family. + +A broad smile lit up the man's face. + +"Oh, cats! I see! Where're you taking them?" + +"To Bellaire." + +"Ah, Bellaire; that's where I'm going. We'll have a nice ride +together, almost two hours." + +"I'm glad." Jinnie leaned back, sighing contentedly. + +In those few minutes she had grown to have great faith in this +stranger, the third of the puzzling trio that had come into her life +that night. First her father, then the man with Molly the Merry, and +now this brilliant new friend, who quite took away her breath as she +peeped up at him. His smile seemed to be ever ready. It warmed her and +made her glow with friendliness. She liked, too, the deep tones in his +voice and the sight of his strong hands as they gestured during his +speeches. + +"Where are you going in Bellaire?" he questioned. + +Virginia cogitated for a moment. She couldn't tell the story her +father had told her, yet she must answer his kindly question. + +At length, "The cats and I are going to live with my uncle," said +she. + +"He lives in Bellaire?" + +"Yes, but I've never seen him. I'll find him, though, when I get +there." + +It didn't occur to the man to ask the name of her relatives, and +Jinnie was glad he did not. + +"Perhaps I shall see you some time in the city," he responded to her +statement. Jinnie hoped so; oh, how she hoped she might see him +again! + +"Mebbe," was all she said. + +"You see I live there with my mother," continued the man. "Our home is +called Kinglaire. My name is King." + +Virginia lifted her head with a queer little start. + +"I've read about your people," she said. "I've got a book in our +garret that tells all about Kings." + +"That's very nice," answered Mr. King. "I won't have to explain +anything about us, then." + +"No, I know," said Jinnie in satisfaction. + +At least she thought she knew. Hadn't she read over and over, when +seated in the garret, the story of the old and new kings, how they sat +on their thrones, and ruled their people sometimes with a rod of iron? +Jinnie brought to mind some of the vivid pictures, and shyly lifted a +pair of violet eyes to scan the face above her. Surely this King was +handsomer than any in the book. She tried to imagine him on his +throne, and wondered if he were always smiling as now. + +"You're quite different from your relations," she observed presently. + +Theodore King laughed aloud. The sound startled the girl into a +straighter posture. It rang out so merrily that she laughed too after +making up her mind that he was not ridiculing her. + +"Really you are!" she exclaimed. "I mean it. You know the picture of +the King with a red suit on,--he doesn't look like you. His nose went +sort of down over his mouth--I mean, well, yours don't." + +She stumbled through the last few words, intuitively realizing that +she had been too personal. + +"You like to read, I gather," stated Mr. King. + +"Yes, but I like to fiddle better," said Jinnie. + +"Oh, you play, do you?" + +Jinnie's eyes fell upon the instrument standing in the corner of the +opposite seat, wrapped in an old jacket. She nodded. + +"I play some. I love my fiddle almost as much as I do Milly Ann and +her kitties." + +"Won't you play for me?" asked Mr. King, gravely putting forth his +hand. + +Jinnie paused a moment. Then without further hesitancy she took up the +violin and unfastened it. + +"I'll be glad to fiddle for a king," she said naively. + +She did not speak as she turned and twisted the small white keys. + +Outside the storm was still roaring over the hills, sweeping the lake +into monstrous waves. The shriek of the wind mingled with the snap of +the taut strings under the agile fingers of the hill girl. Then Jinnie +began to play. Never in all his life had Theodore King seen a picture +such as the girl before him made. The wondrous beauty of her, the +marvelous fingers traveling over the strings, together with the +moaning of the night wind, made an impression upon him he would never +forget. Sometimes as her fingers sped on, her eyes were penetrating; +sometimes they darkened almost to melancholy. When the last wailing +note had finally died away, Jinnie dropped the instrument to her +side. + +"It's lonely on nights like this when the ghosts howl about," she +observed. "They love the fiddle, ghosts do." + +Theodore King came back to himself at the girl's words. He drew a long +breath. + +"Child," he ejaculated, "whoever taught you to play like that?" + +"Why, I taught myself," answered Jinnie. + +"Please play again," entreated Mr. King, and once more he sat +enthralled with the wonder of the girl's melodies. The last few +soulful notes Mr. King likened to a sudden prayer, sent out with a +sobbing breath. + +"It's wonderful," he murmured slowly. "What is the piece you've just +played?" + +"It hasn't any name yet," replied the girl. "You see I only know +pieces that're in my head." + +Then all the misery of the past few hours swept over her, and Jinnie +began to cry. A burden of doubt had clouded the usually clear young +mind. What if the man to whom she was going would not let her and the +cats live with him? He might turn them away. + +Mr. King spoke softly to her. + +"Don't cry," said he. "You won't be lonely when you get to your +uncle's." + +But she met his smiling glance with a feeling of constraint. He did +not know the cause of her tears; she could not tell him. If she only +knew,--if she only had one little inkling of the reception she would +receive at the painter's home. However, she did cheer up a little when +Mr. King, in evident desire to be of some service, began to tell her +of the city to which she was going. + +In a short time he saw the dark head nodding, and he drew Jinnie down +against his arm, whispering: + +"Sleep a while, child; I'll wake you up at Bellaire." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +LIKE UNTO LIKE ATTRACTED + + +Jinnie Singleton watched Theodore King leave the train at the little +private station situated on his own estate. As she drew nearer the +city depot, her heart beat with uncertainty, for that day would decide +her fate, her future; she would know by night whether or not she +possessed a friend in the world. + +For some hours she sat in the station on one of the hard benches, +waiting for daylight, at which time she and Milly Ann would steal +forth into the city to find Lafe Grandoken, her mother's friend. + +A reluctant, stormy dawn was pushing its way from the horizon as she +picked up the pail and fiddle and stepped out into the falling snow. + +Stopping a moment, she asked the station master about the Grandokens, +but as he had only that week arrived in Bellaire, he politely, with +admiration in his eyes, told her he could not give her any +information. But on the railroad tracks Virginia saw a man standing +with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. + +"What'd you want of Lafe Grandoken?" asked the fellow in reply to her +question. + +"I've come to see him," answered Jinnie evasively. + +"He's a cobbler and lives down with the shortwood gatherers there on +Paradise Road. Littlest shack of the bunch! He ain't far from my +folks. My name's Maudlin Bates." + +He went very near her. + +"Now I've told you, you c'n gimme a kiss," said he. + +"I'll give you a bat," flung back Jinnie, walking away. + +Some distance off she stood looking down the tracks, her blue eyes +noting the row of huts strung along the road and extending toward the +hills. At the back of them was a marshland, dense with trees and +underbrush. + +"My father told me Mr. Grandoken was a painter of houses!" Jinnie +ruminated: "But that damn duffer back there says he's changed his work +to cobbling. I'll go and see! I hope it won't be long before I'm as +warm as can be. Wonder if he'll be glad to see me!" + +"It's the smallest house among 'em," she cogitated further, walking +very fast. "Well! There ain't any of 'em very big." + +She traveled on through heavy snow, glancing at every hut until, +coming to a standstill, she read aloud: + +"Lafe Grandoken, Cobbler of Folks' and Children's Shoes and Boots." + +Jinnie turned and, going down a short flight of steps, hesitated a +moment before she knocked timidly on the front door. During the moment +of waiting she glanced over what she hoped was to be her future home. +It was so small in comparison with the huge, lonely farmhouse she had +left the night before that her heart grew warm in anticipation. Then +in answer to a man's voice, calling "Come in!" she lifted the latch +and opened the door. + +The room was small and cheerless, although a fire was struggling for +life in a miniature stove. In one corner was a table strewn with +papers. Back from the window which faced the tracks was a man, a kit +of cobbler's tools, in the disarray of daily use, on the bench beside +him. He halted, with his hammer in the air, at the sight of the +newcomer. + +"Come in and shut the door," said he, and the girl did as she was +bidden. "Cold, ain't it?" + +"Yes," replied Jinnie, placing the pail and fiddle on the floor. + +The girl looked the man over with her steady blue eyes. Then her heart +gave one great bound. The grey face had lighted with a sweet, sad +smile; the faded eyes, under the bushy brows, twinkled welcome. A +sense of wonderful security and friendship rushed over her. + +"Well, what's your business? Got some shoes to mend?" asked the man. +"Better sit down." + +Jinnie took a chair in silence, a passionate wish suffusing her being +that this small home might be hers. She was so lonely, so homesick. +The little room seemed radiant with the smile of the cobbler. She only +felt the wonderful content that flowed from the man on the bench to +herself; she wanted to stay with him; never before had she been face +to face with a desire so great. + +"I've come to live with you," she gulped, at length. + +The cobbler gave a quick whack at the little shoe he held in the +vise. + +"I'm Jinnie Singleton, kid of Thomas Singleton, the second," the girl +explained, almost mechanically, "and I haven't any home, so I've come +to you." + +During this statement the cobbler's hammer rattled to the floor, and +he sat eyeing the speaker speechlessly. Then he slowly lifted his arms +and held them forth. + +"Come here! Lass, come here!" he said huskily. "I'd come to you, but I +can't." + +In her mental state it took Jinnie a few seconds to gather the import +of the cobbler's words. Then she sprang up and went forward with +parted, smiling lips, tears trembling thick on her dark lashes. When +Jinnie felt a pair of warm, welcoming arms about her strong young +shoulders, she shivered in sudden joy. The sensation was delightful, +and while a thin hand patted her back, she choked down a hard sob. +However, she pressed backward and looked down into Lafe Grandoken's +eyes. + +"I thought I'd never cry again as long as I lived," she whispered, +"but--but I guess it's your loving me that's done it." + +It came like a small confession--as a relief to the overburdened +little soul. + +"I guess I've rode a hundred miles to get here," she went on, half +sobbing, "and you're awful glad to see me, ain't you?" + +It didn't need Lafe's, "You bet your boots," to satisfy Jinnie. The +warmth of his arms, the shining, misty eyes, set her to shivering +convulsively and shaking with happiness. + +"Set here on the bench," invited the cobbler, softly, "an' tell me +about your pa an' ma." + +"They're both dead," said Jinnie, sitting down, but she still kept her +hand on the cobbler's arm as if she were afraid he would vanish from +her sight. + +The man made a dash at his eyes with his free hand. + +"Both dead!" he repeated with effort, "an' you're their girl!" + +"Yes, and I've come to live with you, if you'll let me." + +She drew forth the letters written the night before. + +"Here's two letters," she ended, handing them over, and sinking down +again into the chair. + +She sat very quietly as the cobbler stumbled through the finely +written sheets. + + * * * * * + + "Mottville Corners, N. Y. + +"Dear Mr. Grandoken," whispered Lafe. + +"My girl will bring you this, and, in excuse for sending her, I will +briefly state: I'm very near the grave, and she's in great danger. I +want to tell you that her Uncle Jordan Morse has conquered me and will +her, if she's not looked after. For her mother's sake, I ask you to +take her if you can. She will repay you when she's of age, but until +then, after I'm gone, she can't get any money unless through her +uncle, and that would be too dangerous. When I say that my child's +life isn't worth this paper if she is given over to Morse, you'll see +the necessity of helping her. I don't know another soul I could trust +as I am trusting you. The other letter Virginia will explain. Keep it +to use against Morse if you need to. + +"I can't tell you whether my girl is good or not, but I hope so. I've +woefully neglected her, but now I wish I had a chance to live the past +few years over. She'll tell you all she knows, which isn't much. What +you do for her will be greatly appreciated by me, and would be by her +mother, too, if she could understand her daughter's danger. +"Gratefully yours, + + "THOMAS G. SINGLETON." + + * * * * * + +The cobbler put down the paper, and the rattling of it made Jinnie +raise her head. + +"Come over here again," said the shoemaker, kindly. "Now tell me all +about it." + +"Didn't the letter tell you?" + +"Some of it, yes. But tell me about yourself." + +Lafe Grandoken listened as the girl recounted her past life with +Matty, and when at the finish she remarked, + +"I had to bring Milly Ann----" + +Grandoken by a look interrupted her explanation. + +"Milly Ann?" he repeated. + +Then came the story of the mother-cat and her babies. Jinnie lifted +the towel, and the almost smothered kittens scrambled over the top of +the pail. Milly Ann stretched her cramped legs, then proceeded +vigorously to wash the faces of her numerous children. + +"She wouldn't 've had a place to live if I hadn't brought her," +explained Jinnie, looking at the kittens. "I guess they won't eat +much, because Milly Ann catches all kinds of live things. I don't like +'er to do that, but I heard she was born that way and can't help it." + +"I guess she'll find enough to eat around here," he said softly. + +"I brought my fiddle, too," Jinnie went on lovingly. "I couldn't live +without it any more'n I could without Milly Ann." + +The cobbler nodded. + +"You play?" he questioned. + +"A little," replied the girl. + +Mr. Grandoken eyed the instrument on the floor beside the pail. + +"You oughter have a box to put it in," he suggested. "It might get +wet." + +Virginia acquiesced by bowing her head. + +"I know it," she assented, "but I carried it in that old wrap.... Did +Father tell you about my uncle?" + +"Yes," replied the cobbler. + +"And that he was made to die for something my uncle did?" + +"Yes, an' that he might harm you.... I knew your mother well, lass, +when she was young like you." + +An expression of sadness pursed Jinnie's pretty mouth. + +"I don't remember her, you see," she murmured sadly. "I wish I had her +now." + +And she heard the cobbler murmur, "What must your uncle be to want to +hurt a little, sweet girl like you?" + +They did not speak again for a few moments. + +"Go call Peg," the cobbler then said. + +At a loss, Virginia glanced about. + +"Peg's my woman--my wife," explained Lafe. "Go through that door +there. Just call Peg an' she'll come." + +In answer to the summons a woman appeared, with hands on hips and arms +akimbo. Her almost colorless hair, streaked a little with grey, was +drawn back from a sallow, thin face out of which gleamed a pair of +light blue eyes. Jinnie in one quick glance noted how tall and angular +she was. The cobbler looked from his wife to her. + +"You've heard me speak about Singleton, who married Miss Virginia +Burton in Mottville, Peggy, ain't you?" he asked. + +"Yes," answered the woman. + +"His kid's come to live with us. She calls herself Jinnie." He threw +his eyes with a kindly smile to the girl, standing hesitant, longing +for recognition from the tall, gaunt woman. "I guess she'd better go +to the other room and warm her hands, eh?" + +Mrs. Grandoken, dark-faced, with drooping lips, ordered the girl into +the kitchen. + +Alone with his wife, Lafe read Singleton's letter aloud. + +"I've heard as much of her yarn as I can get," he said, glancing up. +"I just wanted to tell you she was here." + +"We ain't got a cent to bless ourselves with," grumbled Mrs. +Grandoken, "an' times is so hard I can't get more work than what I'm +doin'." + +A patient, resigned look crossed the cobbler's pain-worn face. + +"That's so, Peg, that's so," he agreed heartily. "But there's always +to-morrow, an' after that another to-morrow. With every new day +there's always a chance. We've got a chance, an' so's the girl." + +The woman dropped into a chair, noticing the cobbler's smile, which +was born to give her hope. + +"There ain't much chance for a bit of a brat like her," she snarled +crossly, and the man answered this statement with eagerness, because +the rising inflection in his wife's voice made it a question. + +"Yes, there is, Peg," he insisted; "yes, there is! Didn't you say +there was hope for me when my legs went bad--that I had a chance for a +livin'? Now didn't you, Peggy? An' ain't I got the nattiest little +shop this side of way up town?" + +Peg paused a moment. Then, "That you have, Lafe; you sure have," came +slowly. + +"An' didn't I make full sixty cents yesterday?" + +"You did, Lafe; you sure did." + +"An' sixty cents is better'n nothin', ain't it, Peg?" + +Mrs. Grandoken arose hastily. + +"Course 'tis, Lafe! But don't brag 'cause you made sixty cents. You +might a lost your hands same's your feet. 'Tain't no credit to you you +didn't. Here, let me wrap you up better! You'll freeze all that's left +of your legs, if you don't." + +"Them legs ain't much good," sighed the cobbler. "They might as well +be off; mightn't they, Peg?" + +Peggy wrapped a worn blanket tightly about her husband. + +"You oughter be ashamed," she growled darkly. "Ain't you every day +sayin' there's always to-morrow?" + +This time her voice was toned with finality, and she turned and went +out. + +[Illustration: "I GUESS THEY WON'T EAT MUCH, BECAUSE MILLY ANN CATCHES +ALL KIND OF LIVE THINGS. I DON'T LIKE HER TO DO THAT, BUT +I HEARD SHE WAS BORN THAT WAY AND CAN'T HELP IT."] + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PEG'S BARK + + +Virginia and Lafe Grandoken sat for some time with nothing but the +tick-tack of the hammer to break the silence. + +"It bein' the first time you've visited us, kid," broke in the man, +pausing, "you can't be knowin' just what's made us live this way." + +Virginia made a negative gesture and smiled, settling herself +hopefully for a story, but Lafe brought a frightened expression +quickly to her face by his low, even voice, and the ominous meaning of +his words. + +"Me an' Peg's awful poor," said he. + +"Then mebbe I'd better not stay, Mr. Lafe," faltered Jinnie. + +The cobbler threaded his fingers through his hair. + +"The shanty's awful small," he interjected, thoughtfully. + +"I think it's awful nice, though," offered the girl. Some thought +closed her blue eyes, but they flashed open instantly. + +"Cobbler," she faltered, "is Mrs. Peggy mad when she grits her teeth +and wags her head?" + +As if by its own volition the cobbler's hammer stayed itself in the +air. + +"No," he smiled, "just when she acts the worst is when she's likely to +do her best ... I've knowed Peggy this many a year." + +"She was a wee little bit cross to me," commented the girl. + +"Was she? I didn't hear anything she said." + +"I'll tell you, then, Mr. Lafe," said Virginia. "When I was standing +by the fire warming my hands, she come bustling out and looked awful +mad. She said something about folks keeping their girls to home." + +"Well, what after that?" asked the cobbler, as Jinnie hesitated. + +"She said she could see me eating my head off, and as long as I had to +hide from my uncle, I wouldn't be able to earn my salt." + +"Well, that's right," affirmed the cobbler, wagging his head. "You got +to keep low for a while. Your Uncle Morse knows a lot of folks in this +town." + +"But they don't know me," said Virginia. + +"That's good," remarked Lafe. + +As he said this, Peg opened the door roughly and ordered them in to +breakfast. + +Virginia sat beside the cobbler at the meager meal. On the table were +three bowls of hot mush. As the fragrant odor rose to her nostrils, +waves of joy crept slowly through the young body. + +"Peggy 'lowed you'd be hungry, kid," said the cobbler, pushing a bowl +in front of her. + +Mrs. Grandoken interrupted her husband with a growl. + +"If I've any mem'ry, you 'lowed it yourself, Lafe Grandoken," she +muttered. + +A smile deepened on the cobbler's face and a slight flush rose to his +forehead. + +"I 'lowed it, too, Peggy dear," he said. + +"Eat your mush," snapped the woman, "an', Lafe, don't 'Peggy dear' me. +I hate it; see?" + +Virginia refused to believe the startling words. She would have +adored being called "dear." In Lafe's voice, great love rang out; in +the woman's, she scarcely knew what. She glanced from one to the other +as the cobbler lifted his head. He was always thanking some one in +some unknown place for the priceless gift of his woman. + +"I'll 'Peggy dear' you whenever I feel like it, wife," he said +gravely, "for God knows you're awful dear to me, Peg." + +Mrs. Grandoken ignored his speech, but when she returned from the +stove, her voice was a little more gentle. + +"You can both stuff your innards with hot mush. You can't starve on +that.... Here, kid, sit a little nearer!" + +So Virginia Singleton, the lame cobbler, and Peggy began their first +meal, facing a new day, which to Lafe was yesterday's to-morrow. + +A little later Virginia followed the wheel chair into the cobbler's +shop. Peggy grumblingly left them to return to her duties in the +kitchen. + +"Terrible cold day this," Lafe observed, picking up a shoe. "The +wind's blowin' forty miles the hour." + +Virginia's next remark was quite irrelevant to the wind. + +"I'm hoping Mrs. Peggy'll get the money she was talking about." + +"Did she tell you she needed some?" + +Virginia nodded, and when she spoke again, her tongue was parched and +dry. + +"She said she had to have money to-night. I hope she gets it; if she +doesn't I can't stay and live with you." + +"I hope she gets it, too," sighed the cobbler. + +Of a sudden a thought seemed to strike him. The girl noticed it and +looked a question. + +"Peggy's bark's worser'n her bite," Lafe explained in answer. "She's +like a lot of them little pups that do a lot of barkin' but wouldn't +set their teeth in a biscuit." + +"Does that mean," Jinnie asked eagerly, "if she don't get the two +dollars to-night, Mrs. Peggy might let me stay?" + +"That's just what it means," replied Lafe, making loud whacks on the +sole of a shoe. "You'll stay, all right." + +The depth of Virginia's gratitude just then could only be estimated by +one who had passed through the same fires of deep uncertainty, and in +the ardor of it she flung her arms around the cobbler's neck and +kissed him. + + * * * * * + +When Lafe, with useless legs, had been brought home to his wife, she +had stoically taken up the burden that had been his. At her husband's +suggestion that he should cobble, Mrs. Grandoken had fitted up the +little shop, telling him grimly that every hand in the world should do +its share. And that was how Lafe Grandoken, laborer and optimist, +began his life's great work--of cobbling a ray of comfort to every +soul entering the shack. Sometimes he would insist that the sun shone +brighter than the day before; then again that the clouds had a cooling +effect. But if in the world outside Lafe found no comfort, he always +spoke of to-morrow with a ring of hope in his voice. + +Hope for another day was all Lafe had save Peggy, and to him these +two--hope and the woman--were Heaven's choicest gifts. Now Peggy +didn't realize all these things, because the world, with its trials +and vicissitudes, gave her a different aspect of life, and she was not +in even her ordinary good humor this day as she prepared the midday +meal. Her mind was busy with thoughts of the new burden which the +morning had brought. + +Generally Lafe consulted her about any problem that presented itself +before him, but, that day, he had taken a young stranger into their +home, and Mrs. Grandoken had used all kinds of arguments to persuade +him to send the girl away. Peggy didn't want another mouth to feed. +She didn't care for any one in the world but Lafe anyway. + +When the dinner was on the table, she grimly brought her husband's +wheel chair to the kitchen. Virginia, by the cobbler's invitation, +followed. + +"Any money paid in to-day?" asked Peggy gruffly, drawing the cobbler +to his place at the table. + +"No," he said, smiling up at her, "but there'll be a lot to-morrow.... +Is there some bread for----for Jinnie, too?" + +Peggy replied by sticking her fork into a biscuit and pushing it off +on Virginia's plate with her finger. + +Virginia acknowledged it with a shy upward glance. Peg's stolid face +and quick, insistent movements filled her with vague discomfort. If +the woman had tempered her harsh, "Take it, kid," with a smile, the +little girl's heart might have ached less. + +Lafe nodded to her when his wife left the room for a moment. + +"That biscuit's Peg's bite," said he, "so she'll bark a lot the rest +of the day, but don't you mind." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JUST A JEW + + +When the cobbler was at work again, Virginia, after picking up a few +nails and tacks scattered on the floor, sat down. + +"Would you like to hear something about me and Peggy, lassie?" he +inquired, "an' will you take my word for things?" + +Jinnie nodded trustfully. She had already grown to love the cobbler, +and her affection grew stronger as she stated: + +"There isn't anything you'd tell me, cobbler, I wouldn't believe!" + +With slow importance Lafe put down his hammer. + +"I'm a Israelite," he announced. + +"What's that?" asked the girl, immediately interested. + +The cobbler looked over his spectacles and smiled. + +"A Jew, just a plain Jew." + +"I don't know what a Jew is either," confessed Jinnie. + +Lafe groped for words to explain his meaning. + +"A Jew," he ventured presently, "is one of God's----chosen----folks. I +mean one of them chose by Him to believe." + +"Believe what?" + +"All that God said would be," explained Lafe, reverently. + +"And you believe it, cobbler?" + +"Sure, kid; sure." + +The shoemaker saw a question mirrored in the depths of the violet +eyes. + +"And thinking that way makes you happy, eh, Mr. Lafe? Does it make you +smile the way you do at girls without homes?" + +As she put this question sincerely to him, Jinnie reminded the cobbler +of a beautiful flower lifting its proud head to the sun. In his +experience with young people, he had never seen a girl like this one. + +"It makes me happier'n anything!" he replied, cheerfully. "The +wonderful part is I wouldn't know about it if I hadn't lost my legs. +I'll tell you about it, lass." + +Jinnie settled back contentedly. + +"A long time ago," began Mr. Grandoken, "God led a bunch of Jews out +of a town where a king was torturin' 'em----" + +The listener's eyes darkened in sympathy. + +"They was made to do a lot of things that hurt 'em; their babies and +women, too." + +Jinnie leaned forward and covered the horny hand with her slender +fingers. + +"Have you ever had any babies, Lafe?" she ventured. + +A perceptible shadow crossed the man's face. + +"Yes," said he hesitatingly. "Me and Peggy had a boy--a little fellow +with curly hair--a Jew baby. Peggy always let me call him a Jew baby, +though he was part Irish." + +"Oh!" gasped Jinnie, radiantly. + +"I was a big fellow then, kid, with fine, strong legs, an' nights, +when I'd come home, I'd carry the little chap about." + +The cobbler's eyes glistened with the memory, but shadowed almost +instantly. + +"But one day----" he hesitated. + +The pause brought an exclamation from the girl. + +"And one day--what?" she demanded. + +"He died; that's all," and Lafe gazed unseeingly at the snow-covered +tracks. + +"And you buried him?" asked Virginia, softly. + +"Yes, an' the fault was mostly mine, Jinnie. I ain't had no way to +make it up to Peggy, but there's lots of to-morrows." + +"You'll make her happy then?" ejaculated the girl. + +"Yes," said Lafe, "an' I might a done it then, but I wouldn't listen +to the voices." + +A look of bewildered surprise crossed the girl's face. Were they +spirit voices, the voices in the pines, of which Lafe was speaking? +She'd ask him. + +"God's voices out of Heaven," said he, in answer to her query. "They +come every night, but I wouldn't listen, till one day my boy was took. +Then I heard another voice, demandin' me to tell folks what was what +about God. But I was afraid an' a--coward." + +The cobbler lapsed into serious thought, while Virginia moved a small +nail back and forth on the floor with the toe of her shoe. She +wouldn't cry again, but something in the low, sad voice made her +throat ache. After the man had been quiet for a long time, she pressed +him with: + +"After that, Lafe, what then?" + +"After that," repeated the cobbler, straightening his shoulders, +"after that my legs went bad an' then--an' then----" + +Virginia, very pale, went to the cobbler, and laid her head against +his shoulder. + +"An' then, child," he breathed huskily, "I believed, an' I know, as +well as I'm livin', God sent his Christ for everybody; that in the +lovin' father"--Lafe raised his eyes--"there's no line drawed 'tween +Jews an' Gentiles. They're all alike to Him. Only some're goin' one +road an' some another to get to Him, that's all." + +These were quite new ideas to Virginia. In all her young life no one +had ever conversed with her of such things. True, from her hill home +on clear Sunday mornings she could hear the church bells ding-dong +their hoarse welcome to the farmers, but she had never been inside the +church doors. Now she regretted the lost opportunity. She wished to +grasp the cobbler's meaning. Noting her tense expression, Grandoken +continued: + +"It was only a misunderstandin' 'tween a few Jews when they nailed the +Christ to the cross. Why, a lot of Israelites back there believed in +'im. I'm one of them believin' Jews, Jinnie." + +"I wish I was a Jew, cobbler," sighed Jinnie. "I'd think the same as +you then, wouldn't I?" + +"Oh, you don't have to be a Jew to believe," returned Lafe. "It's as +easy to do as 'tis to roll off'n a log." + +This lame man filled her young heart with a deep longing to help him +and to have him help her. + +"You're going to teach me all about it, ain't you, Lafe?" she +entreated presently. + +"Sure! Sure! You see, it's this way: Common, everyday folks--them with +narrer minds--ain't much use for my kind of Jews. I'm livin' here in a +mess of 'em. Most of 'em's shortwood gatherers. When I found out about +the man on the cross, I told it right out loud to 'em all. ... You're +one of 'em. You're a Gentile, Jinnie." + +"I'm sorry," said the girl sadly. + +"Oh, you needn't be. Peg's one, too, but she's got God's mark on her +soul as big as any of them women belongin' to Abraham, Isaac and +Jacob----I ain't sure but it's a mite bigger." + +The speaker worked a while, bringing the nails from his lips in rapid, +even succession. Peg was the one bright spot that shone out of his +wonderful yesterdays. She was the one link that fastened him securely +to a useful to-morrow. + +Virginia counted the nails mechanically as they were driven into the +leather, and as the last one disappeared, she said: + +"Are you always happy, Lafe, when you're smiling? Why, you +smile--when--even when--" she stammered, caught her breath, and +finished, "even when Mrs. Peggy barks." + +An amused laugh came from the cobbler's lips. + +"That's 'cause I know her, lass," said he. "Why, when I first found +out about the good God takin' charge of Jews an' Gentiles alike, I +told it to Peg, an', my, how she did hop up an' down, right in the +middle of the floor. She said I was meddlin' into things that had took +men of brains a million years to fix up. + +"But I knew it as well as anything," he continued. "God's love is +right in your heart, right there----" He bent over and gently touched +the girl. + +She looked up surprised. + +"I heard He was setting on a great high throne up in Heaven," she +whispered, glancing up, "and he scowled dead mad when folks were +wicked." + +Lafe smiled, shook his head, and picked up his hammer. + +"No," said he. "No, no! He's right around me, an' He's right around +you, an' everything a feller does or has comes from Him." + +Virginia's thoughts went back to an episode of the country. + +"Does He help a kid knock hell out of another kid when that kid is +beating a littler kid?" + +Her eyes were so earnest, so deep in question, that the cobbler +lowered his head. Not for the world would he have smiled at Virginia's +original question. He scarcely knew how to answer, but presently +said: + +"Well, I guess it's all right to help them who ain't as big as +yourself, but it ain't the best thing in the world to gad any one." + +"Oh, I never licked any of 'em," Jinnie assured him. "I just wanted to +find out, that's all." + +"What'd you do when other kids beat the littler ones?" demanded the +cobbler. + +"Just shoved 'em down on the ground and set on 'em, damn 'em!" +answered Jinnie. + +Lafe raised his eyes slowly. + +"I was wonderin' if I dared give you a lesson, lass," he began in a +low voice. + +"I wish you would," replied Virginia, eagerly. "I'd love anything +you'd tell me." + +"Well, I was wonderin' if you knew it was wicked to swear?" + +Like a shot came a pang through her breast. She had offended her +friend. + +"Wicked? Wicked?" she gasped. "You say it's wicked to swear, +cobbler?" + +Lafe nodded. "Sure, awful wicked," he affirmed. + +Virginia took a long breath. + +"I didn't know it," she murmured. "Father said it wasn't polite, but +that's nothing. How is it wicked, cobbler?" + +Lafe put two nails into position in the leather sole and drove them +deep; then he laid down the hammer again. + +"You remember my tellin' you this morning of the man with angels, +white angels, hoverin' about the earth helpin' folks?" + +"Yes," answered Virginia. + +"Well, He said it was wicked." + +An awe-stricken glance fell upon the speaker. + +"Did He tell you so, Lafe?" + +"Yes," said Lafe. "It ain't a question of politeness at all, but just +bein' downright wicked. See, kid?" + +"Yes, cobbler, I do now," Jinnie answered, hanging her head. "Nobody +but Matty ever told me nothing before. I guess she didn't know much +about angels, though." + +"Well," continued Lafe, going back to his story, "God give his little +boy Jesus to a mighty good man an' a fine woman--as fine as Peg--to +bring up. An' Joseph trundled the little feller about just as I did my +little Lafe, an' bye-an'-bye when the boy grew, He worked as his +Father in Heaven wanted him to. The good God helped Joseph an' Mary to +bring the Christ down face to face with us--Jews an' Gentiles alike." + +"With you and me?" breathed Virginia, solemnly. + +"With you an' me, child," repeated the cobbler in subdued tones. + +Virginia walked to the window and drummed on the pane. Through mere +force of habit the cobbler bent his head and caught the tacks between +his teeth. He did it mechanically; he was thinking of the future. In +the plan of events which Lafe had worked out for himself and Peg, +there was but one helper, and each day some new demonstration came to +make his faith the brighter. In the midst of his meditation, Jinnie +returned to her seat. + +"Cobbler, will you do something I ask you?" + +"Sure," assented Lafe. + +"Get busy trusting Peg'll get the two dollars to-night." + +"I have long ago, child, an' she's goin' to get it, too. That's one +blessin' about believin'. No one nor nobody can keep you from gettin' +what's your own." + +"Mrs. Peggy doesn't think that way," remarked Virginia, with keen +memories of Mrs. Grandoken's snapping teeth. + +"No, not yet, but I'm trustin' she will. You see how 'tis in this +shop. Folks is poor around here. I trust 'em all, Jews and Gentiles +alike, but Peg thinks I ought to have the money the minute the work's +done. But I know no man can keep my money from me, so I soothe her +down till she don't whine any more. That's how I know her bark's +worser'n her bite. Didn't I tell you about the biscuit?" + +"Yes," replied Virginia, "and I hope it'll only be bark about the +money; what if she didn't get it?" + +"She'll get it," assured Lafe, positively. + +Just before bed time Lafe whispered in Jinnie's ear, "Peggy got the +two! I told you she would. God's good, child, and we've all got Him in +us alike." + +And that night, as the air waxed colder and colder, Virginia +Singleton, daughter of the rich, slept her tired sleep amid the +fighters of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"EVERY HAND SHALL DO ITS SHARE," QUOTH PEG. + + +The fifth day of Jinnie's stay in the cobbler's home crept out of the +cold night accompanied by the worst blizzard ever known along the +lake. Many times, if it had not been for the protecting overhanging +hills, the wood gatherers' huts would have been swept quite away. As +it was, Jinnie felt the shack tremble and sway, and doubted its +ability to withstand the onslaught. + +After breakfast found Lafe and Jinnie conversing interestedly in the +shop. The cobbler allowed several bright nails to fall into his palm +before he answered the question which was worrying the girl. + +"There ain't no use troublin' about it, child," commented he. "We +can't starve." + +"If I could only work," said Jinnie gloomily, "I bet Peg'd soon like +me, because she wouldn't have to go out in the cold at all. But you +think it'd be bad for me, eh, Lafe?" + +"Well, you couldn't go around to the factories or stores very well," +replied Lafe. "You see your uncle's tryin' to trace you. I showed you +that this mornin' in the paper, didn't I, where he mourned over you as +lost after findin' your father dead?" + +Jinnie nodded. + +"Yes, I read it," she said. + +"An' he can't get your money for seven years. That makes him madder'n +a hatter, of course." + +"If he'd let me alone, I'd just as soon give him the money," Jinnie +said mournfully. + +Lafe shook his head. + +"The law wouldn't let you, till you was of age. No, sir, you'd either +have to die a natural death or--another kind, an' you're a pretty +husky young kid to die natural." + +"I don't want to die at all," shivered Jinnie. + +Lafe encouraged her with a smile. + +"If he finds you," pursued Lafe, "I'd have to give you up. I couldn't +do anything else. We might pray 'bout it." + +A wistful expression came over Jinnie's face. + +"Is praying anything like wishing, cobbler?" + +"Somethin' the same," replied Mr. Grandoken, "with this +difference--wishin' is askin' somethin' out of somewhere of some one +you don't know; prayin' is just talkin' to some one you're acquainted +with! See?" + +"Yes, I think I do," responded the girl. "Your way is mostly praying, +isn't it, Lafe?" + +"Prayin's more powerful than wishin', lass," said Lafe. "When I was +first paralyzed, I done a lot of wishin'. I hadn't any acquaintance +with anybody but Peggy. After that I took up with God, an' He's been +awful good to me." + +"He's been good to me, too, Lafe, bringing me here." + +This seemed to be a discovery to Virginia, and for a few minutes her +brain was alive with new hopes. Suddenly she drew her chair in front +of Grandoken. + +"Will to-morrow ever be to-day, cobbler?" + +Lafe looked at the solemn-faced girl with smiling, kindly eyes. + +"Sure, kid, sure," he asserted. "When you get done wishin' an' there +ain't nothin' left in the world to want, then to-morrow's to-day." + +Jinnie smiled dismally. "There'd never be a day, cobbler, that I +couldn't think of something I'd like for you--and Peg." + +Lafe meditated an instant before replying. Then: + +"I've found out that we're always happier, kid, when we've got a +to-morrow to look to," said he, "'cause when you're just satisfied, +somethin's very apt to go smash. I was that way once." + +He paused for some seconds. + +"Jinnie," he murmured, "I haven't told you how I lost the use of my +legs, have I?" + +"No, Lafe." + +"Well, as I was sayin', there didn't used to be any to-morrow for me. +I always lived just for that one day. I had Peg an' the boy. I could +work for 'm, an' that was enough. It's more'n lots of men get in this +world." + +His voice trailed into a whisper and ceased. He was living for the +moment in the glory of his past usefulness. The rapt, wrinkled face +shone as if it had been touched by angel fingers. Virginia watched him +reverently. + +"It's more'n two years ago, now," proceeded the cobbler presently, +"an' I was workin' on one of them tall uptown buildin's. Jimmy +Malligan worked right alongside of me. We was great chums, Jimmy an' +me. One day the ropes broke on one of the scaffoldin's--at least, +that's what folks said. When we was picked up, my legs wasn't worth +the powder to blow 'em up--an' Jimmy was dead. ... But Peg says I'm +just as good as ever." + +Here Mr. Grandoken took out his pipe and struck a match. "But I ain't. +'Cause them times Peg didn't have to work. We always had fires enough, +an' didn't live like this. But, as I was sayin', me an' Peg just +kinder lived in to-day. Now, when I hope that mebbe I'll walk again, +I'm always measurin' up to-morrow----Peg's the best woman in the +world." + +Jinnie shivered as a gust of wind rattled the window pane. + +"She makes awful good hot mush," she commented. + +"Anyhow," went on Lafe, "I was better off'n Jimmy, because he was +stone dead. There wasn't any to-day or to-morrow for him, an' I've +still got Peggy." + +"And this shop," supplemented the girl, glancing around admiringly. + +"Sure, this shop," assented Lafe. "I had clean plumb forgot this +shop--I mean, for the minute--but I wouldn't a forgot it long." + +He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and set to work. + +Neither girl nor man spoke for a while, and it wasn't until Lafe heard +Peg's voice growling at one of Milly's kittens that he ceased his +tick-tack. + +"You wouldn't like to join my club, lass, would you?" he ventured. + +Jinnie looked up quickly. + +"Of course I would," she said eagerly. "What kind of a club is it?" + +The girl's faith in the cobbler was so great that if Lafe had +commanded her to go into danger, she wouldn't have hesitated. + +"Tell me what the club is, Lafe," she repeated. + +"Sure," responded Lafe. "Come here an' shake hands! All you have to do +to be a member of my club is to be 'Happy in Spite' an' believe +everythin' happenin' is for the best." + +A mystified expression filled the girl's earnest blue eyes. + +"I'm awful happy," she sighed, "and I'm awful glad to come in your +club, but I just don't understand what it means." + +The cobbler paid no attention for some moments. He was looking out of +the window, in a far-away mood, dreaming of an active past, when +Jinnie accidentally knocked a hammer from the bench. Lafe Grandoken +glanced in the girl's direction. + +"I'm happy in spite--" he murmured. Then he stopped abruptly, and his +hesitation made the girl repeat: + +"Happy in spite?" with a rising inflection. "What does that mean, +Lafe?" + +Lafe began to work desperately. + +"It means just this, kid. I've got a little club all my own, an' I've +named it 'Happy in Spite.'" His eyes gathered a mist as he whispered, +"Happy in spite of everything that ain't just what I want it to be. +Happy in spite of not walkin'--happy in spite of Peg's workin'." + +Virginia raised unsmiling, serious eyes to the speaker. + +"I want to come in your club, too, Lafe," she said slowly. "I need to +be happy in spite of lots of things, just like you, cobbler." + +A long train steamed by. Jinnie went to the window, and looked out +upon it. When the noise of the engine and the roar of the cars had +ceased, she whirled around. + +"Cobbler," she said in a low voice, "I've been thinking a lot since +yesterday." + +"Come on an' tell me about it, lassie," said Lafe. + +She sat down, hitching her chair a bit nearer him, leaned her elbow on +her knee, and buried a dimpled chin in the palm of her hand. + +"Do you suppose, Lafe, if a girl believed in the angels, anybody could +hurt her?" + +"I know they couldn't, kid, an' it's as true's Heaven." + +"Well, then, why can't I go out and work?" + +Lafe paused and looked over his spectacles. + +"Peggy says, 'Every hand should do its share'," he quoted. + +Jinnie winced miserably. She picked up several nails from the floor. +It was a pretext for an activity to cover her embarrassment. + +The cobbler allowed her to busy herself a while in this way. Then he +said: + +"Sit in the chair an' wrap up in the blankets, Jinnie. I want to talk +with you." + +She did as she was bidden, sitting quietly until the man chose to +speak. + +"I guess you're beginnin' to believe," said he, at length, "an' if you +do, a world full of uncles couldn't hurt you. Peg says as how you got +to work if you stay, an' if you have the faith----" + +Jinnie rose tremblingly. + +"I know I'll be all right," she cried. "I just know you and me +believing would keep me safe." + +Her eagerness caused Lafe to draw the girl to him. + +"Can you holler good an' loud?" he asked. + +The girl shot him a curious glance. + +"Sure I can." + +"Can you walk on icy walks----" + +"Oh, I'm as strong as anything," Jinnie cut in, glancing downward at +herself. + +"I know a lot of kids who earn money," said Lafe meditatively. + +"What do they do?" + +"Get wood out of the marsh behind the huts there. Some of 'em keeps +families on it." + +"Sell wood! And there's lots of it, Lafe?" + +"Lots," replied Lafe. + +Sell wood! The very words, new, wonderful, and full of action, rang +through Jinnie's soul like sweet sounding bells. Waves of unknown +sensations beat delightfully upon her girlish heart. If she brought in +a little money every day, Peggy would be kinder. She could; she was +sure she could. She was drawn from her whirling thoughts by the +cobbler's voice. + +"Could you do it, kid? People could think your name was Jinnie +Grandoken." + +Jinnie choked out a reply. + +"And mebbe I could make ten cents a day." + +"I think you could, Jinnie, an' here's Lafe right ready to help you." + +Virginia Singleton felt quite faint. She sat down, her heart beating +under her knit jacket twice as fast as a girl's heart ought to beat. +Lafe had suddenly opened up a path to usefulness and glory which even +in her youthful dreams had never appeared to her. + +"Call Peggy," said Lafe. + +Soon Peg stood before them, with a questioning face. + +"The kid's goin' to work," announced Lafe, "We've got a way of keepin' +her uncle off'n her trail." + +Mrs. Grandoken looked from her husband to Virginia. + +"I want to work like other folks," the girl burst forth, looking +pleadingly at the shoemaker's wife. + +Peggy wiped her arms violently upon her apron, and there flashed +across her face an inscrutable expression that Lafe had learned to +read, but which frightened the newcomer. + +Oh, how Jinnie wanted to do something to help them both! Now, at this +moment, when there seemed a likelihood of being industriously useful, +Jinnie loved them the more. She was going to work, and into her active +little brain came the sound of pennies, and the glint of silver. + +"I want to work, Peggy," she beseeched, "and I'll make a lot of money +for you." + +"Every hand ought to do its share," observed Peg, stolidly, glancing +at the girl's slender fingers. They looked so small, so unused to hard +work, that she turned away. An annoying, gripping sensation attacked +her suddenly, but in another minute she faced the girl again. + +"If you do it, miss, don't flounce round's if you owned the hull of +Paradise Road, 'cause it'll be nothin' to your credit, whatever you +do. You didn't make yourself." + +At the door she turned and remarked, "You've got t'have a shoulder +strap to hold the wood, an' you musn't carry too much to onct. It +might hurt your back." + +"I'll be careful," gulped Jinnie, "and mebbe I could help make the +strap, eh, Lafe?" + +An hour later Jinnie was running a long needle through a tough piece +of leather. She was making the strap to peddle shortwood, and a +happier girl never breathed. + +Peg watched her without comment as Lafe fitted the strap about her +shoulders. In fact, there was nothing for the woman to say, when the +violet eyes were fixed questioningly upon her. Peggy thought of the +hunger which would be bound to come if any hands were idle, so she +muttered in excuse, "There's nothin' like gettin' used to a thing." + +"It's a fine strap, isn't it, Lafe?" asked the girl, "It's almost as +good as a cart." + +"You can't use a cart in the underbrush," explained Lafe. "That's why +the twig gatherers use straps." + +"I see," murmured Jinnie. + +When the cobbler and girl were once more alone together, they had a +serious confab. They decided that every penny Jinnie brought in should +go to enriching the house, and the girl's eyes glistened as she heard +the shoemaker list over the things that would make them comfortable. + +Most delightful thoughts came to endow the girl's mental world, which +now reached from the cobbler's shop to the marsh, over a portion of +the city, and back again. It was rosy-hued, bright, sparkling with +the pennies and nickels she intended to earn. All her glory would come +with the aid of that twig gatherer's leather strap. She looked down +upon it with a proud toss of her head. Jinnie was recovering the +independent spirit which had dominated her when she had wandered alone +on the hills away to the north. + +"I wouldn't wonder if I'd make fifteen cents some days," she remarked +later at the supper table. + +"If you make ten, you'll be doin' well, an' you and Lafe'll probably +bust open with joy if you do," snapped Peg. "Oh, Lord, I'm gettin' +sick to my stomick hearin' you folks brag. Go to bed now, kid, if +you're to work to-morrow." + +Jinnie fell asleep to dream that her hand was full of pennies, and her +pockets running over with nickels. She was just stooping to pick up +some money from the sidewalk when Peg's voice pierced her ear, + +"Kid," said she, "it's mornin', an' your first workin' day. Now hurry +your lazy bones an' get dressed." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BY THE SWEAT OF HER BROW + + +Over the bridge into Paradise Road went the lithe, buoyant figure of a +girl, a loose strap hanging from one straight shoulder. Jinnie was +radiantly happy, for her first day had netted the family twenty cents, +and if Paradise Road had been covered with eggs, she would not have +broken many in her flight homeward. If she had been more used to Mrs. +Grandoken, she would have understood the peculiar tightening at the +corners of the woman's thin lips when she delivered the precious +pittance. Virginia searched the other's face for the least sign of +approbation. She wished Peg would kiss her, but, of course, she dared +not suggest it. To have a little show of affection seemed to Jinnie +just then the most desirable thing in the world, but the cobbler's +wife merely muttered as she went away to the kitchen, and Virginia, +sighing, sat down. + +"Now suppose you tell me all about it, Jinnie," Lafe suggested +smilingly; "just where you went an' how you earned all the money." + +Fatigued almost beyond the point of rehearsing her experiences, Jinnie +took Milly Ann on her lap and curled up in the chair. + +"I guess I've walked fifteen miles," she began. "You know most folks +don't want wood." + +Lafe took one sidewise glance at the beautiful face. He remembered a +picture he had once seen of an angel. Jinnie's face was like that +picture. + +"Well, first, Lafe," she recounted, "I gathered the wood in the marsh, +then I went straight across the back field through the swamp. It's +froze over harder'n hell----" + +Lafe uttered a little, "Sh!" and Jinnie, with scarlet face, +supplemented, + +"I mean harder'n _anything_." + +"Sure," replied Lafe, nodding. + +"Mr. Bates and his kids were there, but he c'n carry a pile three +times bigger'n I can!" + +"Well, you're only a child. Sometimes Bates can't sell all he gets, +though." + +"I sold all mine," asserted Jinnie, brightening. + +The cobbler recalled the history of Jinnie's lonely little life--of +how during those first fifteen years no kindly soul had given her +counsel, and now his heart glowed with thanksgiving as he realized +that she was growing in faith and womanliness. He wanted Jinnie to +give credit where credit was due, so he said, + +"You sold your wood because you had a helpin' hand." + +Jinnie was about to protest. + +"I mean----" breathed Lafe. + +"Oh, angels! Eh?" interrupted the girl. "Yes, I sold my last two +cents' worth by saying what you told me--'He gives His angels charge +over thee'--and, zip! a woman bought the last bundle and gave me a +cent more'n I charged her." + +"Good!" Lafe was highly pleased. "It'll work every time, an' to make a +long story short, it works on boots an' shoes, too." + +"Wood's awful heavy," Jinnie decided, irrelevantly. + +"Sure," soothed Lafe again. He hesitated a minute, drew his hand +across his eyes, and continued, "An', by the way, Jinnie----" + +Jinnie's receptive face caused the cobbler to proceed: + +"I wouldn't have nothin' to do with Bates' son Maudlin, if I was +you.... He's a bad lot." + +Jinnie's head drooped. She flushed to her hair. + +"I saw him to-day," she replied. "He's got wicked eyes. I hate boys +who wink!" + +A look of desperation clouded the fair young face, and the cobbler, +looking at the slender girlish figure, and thinking the while of +Maudlin Bates, suddenly put out his hand. + +"Come here, lassie," he said. + +Another flame of color mounted to Jinnie's tousled hair. With hanging +head, she pushed Milly Ann from her lap and walked to the cobbler's +side. + +"What did Maudlin say to you?" he demanded. + +"He said he'd--he'd crack my twigs for me if--if I'd kiss him, and he +pinched me when I wouldn't." + +Anger and deep resentment displayed themselves on Lafe's pale face. + +"Jinnie, lass," he breathed. "I c'n trust you, child. Can't I trust +you? You wouldn't----" + +Jinnie drew away from Lafe's embrace. + +"I guess I'd rather be killed'n have Maudlin kiss me," she cried +passionately. + +Just then Peg came to the door. + +"Run to the butcher's for a bit of chopped steak, Jinnie," she +ordered, "an' make your head save your heels by bringin' in some +bread." + +Jinnie jumped up quickly. + +"Please use some of my money to buy 'em, Peggy," she begged. "Oh, +please do." + +Peggy eyed her sternly. + +"Kid," she warned. "I want to tell you something before you go any +farther in life. You may be smart, but 'tain't no credit to you, +'cause you didn't make yourself. I'm tellin' you this for fear makin' +so much money'll turn your head.... Here's your ten cents.... Now go +along." + +After Jinnie had gone, Mrs. Grandoken sat down opposite her husband. + +"The girl looks awful tired," she offered, after a moment's silence. + +"She's been earnin' her livin' by the sweat of her brow," replied +Lafe, with a wan smile. + +"Mebbe she'll get used to it," growled Peg. "Of course I don't like +her, but I don't want her hurt. 'Twon't make her sick, will it?" + +"No, she's as strong as a little ox. She's got enough strength in her +body to work ten times harder, but Peg----" Here Lafe stopped and +looked out to the hill beyond the tracks, "but, Peggy, perhaps we c'n +find her somethin' else after a while, when there ain't so much fear +of her uncle. To make a long story short, Peg, danger of him's the +only thing 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 as the small beast scuttled +between the legs of a farmer's horse, which gave him a moment's +respite from his tormentors. + +An instant later they were clamoring again for his unhappy little +life. Suddenly he ran headlong into a tree, striking his shaggy head +with terrific force. Then he curled up in a limp little heap, just as +Jinnie reached him. + +Before Maudlin Bates, the leader of the crowd, arrived, the girl had +picked up the insensible dog and thrust him under her jacket. + +"He's dead, I guess," she said, looking up into the boy's face, "I'll +take him to the cobbler's shop and bury him.... He isn't any good when +he's dead." + +Maudlin Bates grinned from ear to ear, put his hands behind his back, +and allowed his eyes to rove over the girl's straight young figure. + +"Billy Maybee was tryin' to tie a tin can to his tail," he explained, +stuttering, "and the cur snapped at him. We was goin' to hit his head +against the wall." + +"He's dead now," assured Jinnie once more. "It isn't any use to smash +dead dogs." + +This reasoning being unanswerable, Maudlin turned grumblingly away. + +Jinnie's heart beat loudly with living hope. Perhaps the little dog +wasn't dead. Oh, how she hoped he'd live! She stopped half way home, +and pushed aside her jacket and peeped down at him. He was still quite +limp, and the girl hurried on. She did not even wait to buy the meat +nor the bread Peg had asked her to bring in. + +As she hurried across the tracks, she saw Grandoken sitting in the +window. + +He saluted her with one hand, but as she was using both of hers to +hold the dog, she only smiled in return, with a bright nod of her +head. + +Once in the shop, she looked about cautiously. + +"I've got something, Lafe," she whispered, "something you'll like." + +When she displayed the hurt dog, Lafe put out his hand. + +"Is the little critter dead?" he asked solemnly. + +"Oh, I hope not!" replied Jinnie, and excitedly explained the +episode. + +"Lafe took the foundling in his hands, turning the limp body over and +over. + +"Jinnie, go ask Peg to bring some hot water in a pan," he said. "We'll +give the little feller a chanct to live." + +Peg came in with a basin of water, stared at the wide-eyed girl and +her smiling husband, then down upon the dog. + +"Well, for Lord's sake, where'd you get that little beast?" she +demanded. "'Tain't livin', is it? Might as well throw it in the +garbage pail." + +Nevertheless, she put down the basin as she spoke, and took the puppy +from her husband. At variance with her statement that the dog might as +well be thrown out, she laid him in the hot water, rubbing the bruised +body from the top of its head to the small stubby tail. During this +process Lafe had unfastened Jinnie's shortwood strap, and the girl, +free, dropped upon the floor beside Peg. + +Suddenly the submerged body of the pup began to move. + +"He's alive, Peg!" cried Jinnie. "Look at his legs a kicking!... Oh, +Lafe, he's trying to get out of the water!" + +Peg turned sharply. + +"If he ain't dead already," she grunted, "you'll kill him hollerin' +like that. Anyway, 'tain't no credit to hisself if he lives. He didn't +have nothin' to do with his bein' born, an' he won't have nothin' to +do with his goin' on livin'. Shut up, now!... There, massy me, he's +coming to." + +Jinnie squatted upon her feet, while Lafe wheeled his chair a bit +nearer. For some moments the trio watched the small dog, struggling to +regain consciousness. Then Peggy took him from the water and wrapped +him carefully in her apron. + +"Lordy, he's openin' his eyes," she grinned, "an' you, girl, you go in +there by the fire an' just hold him in your arms. Mebbe he'll come +round all right. You can't put him out in the street till he's +better." + +For the larger part of an hour, Jinnie held the newcomer close to her +thumping heart, and when a spasm of pain attacked the shaggy head +resting on her arm, she wept in sympathetic agony. Could Peg be +persuaded to allow the dog to stay? She would promise to earn an extra +penny to buy food for this new friend. At this opportune moment Mrs. +Grandoken arrived from the market. + +"How's he comin' on?" she asked, standing over them. + +"Fine!" replied Jinnie. "And, Peg, he wants to stay." + +"Did he tell y' that?" demanded Peg, grimly. + +"Well, he didn't say just those words," said the girl, "but, Peggy, if +he could talk, he'd tell you how much he loved you----" + +"Look a here, kid," broke in Mrs. Grandoken, "that dog ain't goin' to +stay around this house, an' you might as well understand it from the +beginnin'. I've enough to do with you an' Lafe an' those cats, without +fillin' my house with sick pups. So get that notion right out of your +noddle!... See?" + +Jinnie bowed her head over the sick dog and made a respectful reply. + +"I'll try to get the notion out," said she, "but, Peggy, oh, Peggy +dear, I love the poor little thing so _awful_ much that it'll be hard +for me to throw him away. Will you send him off when he's better, and +not ask me to do it?" + +Jinnie cocked her pretty head inquiringly on one side, closed one eye, +and looked at Peg from the other. + +Peggy sniffed a ruse. She came forward, spread her feet a bit, rolling +her hands nervously in her apron. She hated an everlasting show of +feelings, but sometimes it was difficult for her to crush the emotions +which had so often stirred in her breast since the girl came to live +with them. + +"I might as well tell you one thing right now, Jinnie Grandoken," she +said. "You brought that pup into this house an' you'll take him out, +or he won't get took; see?" + +There was a certain tone in Peg's voice the girl had heard before. + +"Then he won't get kicked out 't all, Peg," she said, with a petulant, +youthful smile. "I just won't do it! Lafe can't, and if you +don't----" + +Mrs. Grandoken made a deep noise in her throat. + +"You're a sassy brat," said she, "that's what you are! An' if Lafe +don't just about beat the life out of you when I tell him about this, +I will, with my own hand, right before his eyes. That's what----" + +Jinnie interrupted her eagerly. "Lafe won't beat me," she answered, +"but I'll let you make me black and blue, Peg, if I can keep the +puppy. Matty used to beat me fine, and she was a good bit stronger'n +you." + +Peggy's eyes drew down at the corners, and her lip quivered. + +"Keep him if you want to, imp of Satan, but some day----here, see if +the beast'll eat this bit of meat." + +Jinnie placed the shivering dog on the floor, and Peg put a piece of +meat under his nose. In her excitement, Jinnie rushed away to Lafe. +Peg's mumble followed her even through the closed door. + +"Cobbler, oh, dear good Lafe," cried the girl, "the dog's living! Peg +says I can keep 'im, and I'm goin' to fiddle for him to-night. Do you +think he'll forget all about his hurt if I do that, Lafe?" + +At that moment, shamed that she had given in to the importunate +Jinnie, Mrs. Grandoken opened the shop door, shoving the half wet dog +inside. + +"Here's your pup, kid," she growled, "an' y'd best keep him from under +my feet if you don't want him stepped on." + +The cobbler smiled his slow, sweet smile. + +"Peg's heart's bigger'n this house," he murmured. "Bring him here, +lassie." + +The girl, dog in arms, stood at the cobbler's side. + +"What're you goin' to name him?" asked Lafe, tenderly. + +"I dunno, but he's awful happy, now he's going to stay with us." + +"Call 'im 'Happy Pete'," said the cobbler, smiling, "an' we'll take +'im into our club; shall we, kid?" + +So Happy Pete was gathered that day into the bosom of the "Happy in +Spite." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +WHAT HAPPENED TO JINNIE + + +With a sigh Jinnie allowed Lafe to buckle the shortwood strap to her +shoulder. Oh, how many days she had gone through a similar operation +with a similar little sigh! + +It was a trying ordeal, that of collecting and selling kindling wood, +for the men of Paradise Road took the best of the shortwood to be +found in the nearer swamp and marsh lands, and oftentimes it was +nearly noon before the girl would begin her sale. + +But the one real happiness of her days lay in dropping the pennies she +earned into Peg's hand. + +Now Peggy didn't believe in spoiling men or children, but one morning, +as she tied a scarf about Jinnie's neck, she arranged the black curls +with more than usual tenderness. + +Pausing at the door and looking back at the woman, Jinnie suddenly +threw up her head in determination. + +"I love you, Peggy," she said, drawing in a long breath. "Give me a +little kiss, will you?" + +There! The cat was out of the bag. In another instant Jinnie would +know her fate. How she dared to ask such a thing the girl could never +afterwards tell. + +If Peg kissed her, work would be easy. If she denied her----Peggy +glanced at her, then away again, her eyes shifting uneasily. + +But after once taking a stand, Jinnie held her ground. Her mouth was +pursed up as if she was going to whistle. Would Peg refuse such a +little request? Evidently Peggy would, for she scoffingly ordered. + +"Go along with you, kid--go long, you flip little brat!" + +"I'd like a kiss awful much," repeated Jinnie, still standing. Her +voice was low-toned and pleading, her blue eyes questioningly on Peg's +face. + +Peg shook her head. + +"I won't kiss you 'cause I hate you," she sniffed. "I've always hated +you." + +Jinnie's eyes filled with tears. + +"I know it," she replied sadly, "I know it, but I'd like a kiss just +the same because--because I _do_ love _you_, Peg." + +A bit of the same sentiment that had worried her for over a year now +attacked Mrs. Grandoken. Her common sense told her to dash away to the +kitchen, but a tugging in her breast kept her anchored to the spot. +Suddenly, without a word, she snatched the girl close to her broad +breast and pressed her lips on Jinnie's with resounding smacks. + +"There! There! And _there_!" she cried, between the kisses. "An' if y' +ever tell a soul I done it, I'll scrape every inch of skin off'n your +flesh, an' mebbe I'll do something worse, I hate y' that bad." + +In less seconds than it takes to tell it, Peg let Jinnie go, and the +girl went out of the door with a smiling sigh. + +"Kisses 're sweeter'n roses," she murmured, walking to the track. "I +wish I'd get more of 'em." + +She turned back as she heard Peg's voice calling her. + +"You might toddle in an' bring home a bit of sausage," said the woman, +indifferently, "an' five cents' worth of chopped steak." + +Mrs. Grandoken watched Jinnie until she turned the corner. She felt a +strangling sensation in her throat. + +A little later she flung the kitchen utensils from place to place, and +otherwise acted so ugly and out of temper that, had Lafe known the +whole incident, he would have smiled knowingly at the far-off hill and +held his peace. + +Late in the afternoon Jinnie counted seventeen pennies, one dime and a +nickel. It was a fortune for any girl to make, and what was better +yet, buckled to her young shoulders in the shortwood strap was almost +her next day's supply. As she replaced the money in her pocket and +walked toward the market, she murmured gravely, + +"Mebbe Peg's kisses helped me to get it, but--but I musn't forget +Lafe's prayers." + +Her smile was radiant and self-possessed. She was one of the world's +workers and loved Lafe and Peg and the world with her whole honest +young heart. + +"Thirty-two cents," she whispered. "That's a pile of money. I wish I +could buy Lafe a posy. He does love 'em so, and he can't get out like +Peg and me to see beautiful things." + +She stopped before a window where brilliant blossoms were exhibited. +Ever since she began to work, one of the desires of Jinnie's soul had +been to purchase a flower. As she scrutinized the scarlet and white +carnations, the deep red roses, and the twining green vines, she +murmured. + +"Peg loves Lafe even if she does bark at him. She won't mind if I buy +him one. I'll make more money to-morrow." + +She opened the door of the shop and drew her unwieldy burden carefully +inside. A girl stood back of the counter. + +"How much're your roses?" asked Jinnie, nodding toward the window and +jingling the pennies in her pocket. + +"The white ones're five cents a piece," said the clerk, "and the red +ones're ten.... Do y' want one?" + +"I'll take a white one," replied the purchaser. + +"Shall I wrap it in paper?" asked the other. + +"No, I'll carry it this way. I'd like to look at it going home." + +The girl passed the rose to Jinnie. + +"It smells nice, too," she commented. + +"Yes," assented Jinnie, delightedly, taking a whiff. + +Then she went on to the meat market to buy the small amount of meat +required for the three of them. + +One of the men grinned at her from the back of the store, calling, +"Hello, kid!" and Maudlin Bates, swinging idly on a stool, shouted, +"What's wanted now, Jinnie?" and still another man came forward with +the question, "Where'd you get the flower, lass?" + +"Bought it," replied Jinnie, leaning against the counter. "I got it +next door for the cobbler. He's lame and can't get out." + +The market man turned to wait upon her. + +"Five cents' worth of chopped meat," ordered Jinnie, "and four +sausages." + +"Ain't you afraid you'll overload your stomachs over there at the +cobbler's shop?" laughed one of the men. "I'll tell you what I'll do, +Jinnie ... Do you see that ring of sausage hangin' on that hook?" + +The girl nodded wonderingly, looking sidewise at Maudlin. + +"Well, if you'll give us a dance, a good one, mind you, still keepin' +the wood on your back, I'll buy you the hull string. It'll last a week +the way you folks eat meat." + +Jinnie's face reddened painfully, but the words appealed to her +money-earning spirit, and with a curious sensation she glanced around. +Could she dance, with the wondering, laughing, admiring gaze of the +men upon her? And Maudlin, too! How she detested his lustful, doltish +eyes! + +She straightened her shoulders, considering. The wood was heavy, and +the strap, bound tightly about her chest and arms, made her terribly +tired. But a whole string of sausage was a temptation she could not +withstand. In her fertile imagination she could see Lafe nod his +approbation, and Peggy joyously frying her earnings in the pan. She +might even get three more kisses when no one was looking. + +"I don't know what to dance," she said presently, studying the rose in +her confusion. + +"Oh, just anything," encouraged the man on the stool. "I'll whistle a +tune." + +"Hand her the sausage, butcher;" sniggered Maudlin, "then she'll be +sure of it. The feel of it'll make her dance better." + +The speaker grinned as the butcher took the string from the hook. +Jinnie slipped the stem of the cobbler's rose between her white teeth, +grasped the sausage in one hand and gripped the shortwood strap with +the other. Then the man started a rollicking whistle, and Jinnie took +a step or two. + +Every one in the place drew nearer. Here was a sight they never had +seen--a lovely, shy-eyed, rosy, embarrassed girl, with a load of +kindling wood on the strong young shoulders, turning and turning in +the center of the market. In one hand she held a ring of sausage, and +between her lips a white rose. + +"If you'll give us a grand fine dance, lass," encouraged the butcher, +"you c'n have the chopped meat, too." + +The man's offer sifted through Jinnie's tired brain and stimulated her +to quicker action. She turned again, shifting the weight more squarely +on her shoulders, her feet keeping perfect time with the shrill, +whistling tune. + +"Faster! Faster!" taunted Maudlin. "Earn your meat, girl! Don't be a +piker!" + +Faster and faster whirled Jinnie, the heft of the shortwood carrying +her about in great circles. Her cap had fallen from her head, loosing +the glorious curls, and her breath whistled past the stem of Lafe's +white flower like night wind past a taut wire. + +Jinnie forgot everything but the delight of earning something for her +loved ones--something that would bring a caress from Lafe. She was +sure of Lafe, very sure! + +As voices called "Faster!" and still "Faster!" Jinnie let go the +shortwood strap to fling aside her curls. Just at that moment she +whirled nearer Maudlin Bates, who thrust forth his great foot and +tripped her. As she staggered, not one of those watching had sense +enough to catch her as she fell. At that moment the door swung open +and Peg Grandoken's face appeared. She looked questioningly at the +market man. + +"I thought I saw Jinnie come in," she hesitated---- + +Then realizing something was wrong, her eyes fell upon the stricken +girl. + +"She was just earnin' a little sausage by dancin'," the butcher +excused. + +Peggy stared and stared, stunned for the moment. The hangdog +expression on Maudlin's face expressed his crime better than words +would have done. Jinnie's little form was huddled against the counter, +the shortwood scattered around her, and from her forehead blood was +oozing. On the slender arm was the ring of sausage and between her set +teeth was Lafe's pale rose. With her outraged soul shining in her +eyes, Peggy gathered the unconscious girl in her two strong arms. + +"I bet _you_ done it, you damn Maudlin!" she gritted, and without +another word, left the market. + +Within a few minutes she had laid Jinnie on her bed, and was telling +Lafe the pathetic story. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +WATCHING + + +There was absolute quiet in the home of the cobbler for over a week. +The house hung heavy with gloom. Jinnie Grandoken was fighting a +ghastlier monster than even old Matty had created for her amusement. + +Of course Jinnie didn't realize this, but two patient watchers knew, +and so did a little black dog. To say that Lafe suffered, as Peggy +repeated over and over to him the story of Jinnie's loving act, would +be words of small import, and through the night hours, when the +cobbler relieved his wife at the sick girl's bed, shapes black and +forbidding rose before him, menacing the child he'd vowed to protect. + +Could it be that Maudlin Bates had anything to do with Jinnie's fall? +Even so, he was powerless to shield her from the young wood gatherer. +A more perplexing problem had never faced his paternal soul. After his +little son had gone away, there had been no child to love until--and +now as he looked at Jinnie, agony surged through him with the memory +of that other agony--for she might go to little Lafe. + +There came again the stabbing pain born with Peg's tale of the dance. +The white rose lay withered in the cobbler's bosom where it had been +since his girl had been carried to what the doctor said would in all +probability be her deathbed. It was on nights like this that dead +memories, with solemn mien, raced from their graves, haunting the +lame man. Even Lafe's wonderful portion of faith had diminished during +the past few days. He found himself praying mighty prayers that Jinnie +would be spared, yet in mental bitterness visualizing her death. Oh, +to keep yet a while within the confines of his life the child he +loved! + +"Let 'er stay, Lord dear, let my Rose o' Paradise stay," Lafe cried +out into the shadowy night, time and time again. + +Peggy came, as she often did, to wheel him away and order him to bed, +but this evening Lafe told Peg he'd rather stay with Jinnie. + +"She looks like death," he whispered unnerved. + +"She is almost dead," replied the woman grimly. + +The doctor entered with silent tread. Stealing to the bed, he put his +hand on the girl's brow. + +"She's better," he whispered, smilingly. "Look! Damp! Nothing could be +a surer sign!" + +"May the good God be praised!" moaned Lafe. + +Jinnie stirred, lifted her heavy lids, and surveyed the room vacantly. +Her glance passed over the medical man as if he were not within the +range of her vision. She gazed at Lafe only, with but a faint glimmer +of recognition, then on to Peg wavered the sunken blue eyes. + +"Drink of water, Peggy dear," she whispered. + +Mrs. Grandoken dropped the fluid into the open, parched mouth from a +spoon; then she bent low to catch the stammering words: + +"Did Lafe like the rose, Peggy, and did you get the ring of sausage?" + +Peg glanced at the doctor, a question struggling to her lips, but she +could not frame the words. + +"Tell her 'yes'," said the man under his breath. + +"Lafe just doted on the flower, honey," acknowledged Peggy, bending +over the bed, "and I cooked all the sausage, an' we two et 'em. They +was finer'n silk.... Now go to sleep; will you?" + +"Sure," trembled Jinnie. "Put Happy Pete in my arms, dear." + +Mrs. Grandoken looked once more at the doctor. He nodded his head +slightly. + +So with the dog clasped in her arms, Jinnie straightway fell asleep. + +Then Peggy wheeled Lafe away to bed, and as she helped him from the +chair, she said: + +"I lied to her just now with my own mouth, Lafe. I told her we et them +sausages. We couldn't eat 'em 'cause they was all mashed up an' +covered with blood." + +The cobbler's eyes searched the mottled face of the speaker. + +"That kind of lies 're blessed by God in his Heaven, Peg," he breathed +tenderly. "A lie lendin' a helpin' hand to a sick lass is better'n +most truths." + +Before going to bed Peg peeped in at Jinnie. The girl still lay with +her arm over the sleeping Pete, her eyes roving round the room. She +caught sight of the silent woman, and a troubled line formed between +her brows. + +"How're you going to get money to live, Peggy?" she wailed. "I'm just +beginning to remember about the dance and getting hurt." + +Peggy stood a moment at the foot of the bed. + +"Lafe's got a whole pocket full o' money," she returned glibly. + +"That's nice," sighed the girl in relief. + +"Shut up now an' go to sleep! Lafe's got enough cash to last a +month." + +And as the white lids drooped over the violet eyes, Peg Grandoken's +guardian angel registered another lie to her credit in the life-book +of her Heavenly Father. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHAT JINNIE FOUND ON THE HILL + + +The days rolled on and on, and the first warm impulses of spring +brought Jinnie, pale and thin, back to Lafe's side. + +She was growing so strong that days when the weather permitted, Peg +put a wrap on her, telling her to breathe some color into her cheeks. + +For a long time Jinnie was willing to remain quietly on the hut steps +where she could see the cobbler whacking away on the torn footwear. +She knew that if she looked long enough, he would glance up and smile +the smile which always warmed the cockles of her loving heart. + +As she grew better, and therefore restless, she walked with Happy Pete +along the cinder path beside the tracks. Each day she went a little +further than the day before, the spirit of adventure beginning to live +again within her. The confines of her narrow world were no longer kept +taut by the necessity of selling wood, and to-day it seemed to broaden +to the far-away hill from whence the numberless fingers of shadow and +sunshine beckoned to the sentimental girl. + +She wandered through Paradise Road with the little dog as a companion, +and finding her way to the board walk, strolled slowly along. + +Wandering up above the city, she discovered a lonely spot snuggled in +the hills, and gathering Happy Pete into her arms, she lay down. Over +her head countless birds sang in the sunshine, and just below, in the +hollow, were squirrels, chattering out their happy existence. +Dreamily, through the leaves of the trees, Jinnie watched the white +clouds float across the sky like flocks of sheep, and soon the peace +of the surrounding world lulled her to rest. + +When Happy Pete touched her with his slender tongue, Jinnie sat up, +staring sleepily around. At a sound, she turned her head and caught +sight of a little boy, whose tangled hair lay in yellow curls on his +head. + +The sight of tears and boyish distress made Jinnie start quickly +toward him, but he seemed so timid and afraid she did not speak. + +Suddenly, two slight, twig-scratched arms fluttered toward her, and +still without a word Jinnie took the trembling hands into hers. Happy +Pete crawled cautiously to the girl's side; then, realizing something +unusual, he threw up his black-tipped nose and whined. At the faint +howl, the boy's hands quivered violently in Jinnie's. He caught his +breath painfully. + +"Oh, who're you? Are you a boy or a girl?" + +His eyes were touched with an indefinable expression. Jinnie flushed +as she scanned for a moment her calico skirt and overhanging blouse. +Then with a tragic expression she released her hands, and ran her +fingers through her hair. With such long curls did she look like a +boy? + +"I'm a girl," she said. "Can't you see I'm a girl?" + +"I'm blind," said the boy, "so--so I had to ask you." + +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 assent, 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 nobody 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 space. + +"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 asserted, "and Lafe'll +let you be his little boy too." + +The blind child gasped, and the girl continued assuringly, "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. + +"Nobody 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." + +"Let me see how you look, first," faltered the boy. "Where's your +face?... I want to touch it!" + +His little hands reached and found Jinnie's shoulders. Then slowly the +fingers moved upwards, pressing here and there upon the girl's skin, +as they traveled in rhythmic motion over her cheeks. + +"Your hair's awful curly and long," said he. "What color is it?" + +"Color? Well, it's black with purple running through it, I guess. +People say so anyway!" + +"Oh, yes, I know what black is. And your eyes're blue, ain't they?" + +"Yes, blue," assented Jinnie. "I see 'em when I slick my hair in the +kitchen glass ... I don't think they're much like yours." + +Bobbie paid no heed to the allusion to himself. + +"Your forehead's smooth, too," he mused. "Your eyes are big, and the +lashes round 'em 're long. You're much prettier'n your dog, but then +girls 're always pretty." + +A flush of pleased vanity reddened Jinnie's skin to the tips of her +ears, and she scrambled to her feet. Then she paused, a solemn +expression shadowing her eyes. + +"Bobbie," she spoke soberly, "now I found you, you belong to me, don't +you?" + +Bobbie thrust forth his hands. + +"Yes, yes," he breathed. + +"Then from now on, from this minute, I'm going to work for you." + +Jinnie's thoughts were on the shortwood strap, but she didn't mention +it. Oh, how she would work for money to give Peg with which to buy +food! How happy she would be in the absolute ownership of the boy she +had discovered in the hills! Tenderly she drew him to her. He seemed +so pitifully helpless. + +"How old 're you?" she demanded. + +"Nine years old." + +"You don't look over five," said Jinnie, surprised. + +"That's because I'm always sick," explained the boy. + +Jinnie threw up her head. + +"Well, a girl sixteen ought to be able to help an awful little boy, +oughtn't she?... Here, I'll put my arm round you, right like this." + +But the boy made a backward step, so that Jinnie, thinking he was +about to fall, caught him sharply by the arm. + +"I'll walk if you'll _lead_ me," Bobbie explained proudly. + +Thus rebuffed, Jinnie turned the blind face toward the east, and +together they made their way slowly to the plank walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"HE'S COME TO LIVE WITH US, PEGGY" + + +They trailed along in silence, the girl watching the birds as flock +after flock disappeared in the north woods. Now and then, when Jinnie +looked at the boy, she felt the pride which comes only with +possession. She was going to work for him, to intercede with Peg, to +allow the foundling to join that precious home circle where the +cobbler and his wife reigned supreme. + +As they reached the plank walk, the boy lagged back. + +"I'm tired, girl," he panted. "I've walked till I'm just near dead." + +He cried quietly as Jinnie led him into the shadow of a tree. + +"Sit here with me," she invited. "Lay your head on my arm." + +And this time he snuggled to her till the blind eyes and the pursed +delicate mouth were hidden against her arm. + +"I told you, Bobbie," Jinnie resumed presently, "I'd let you be Lafe's +little boy, didn't I?" + +"Yes, girl," replied the boy, sleepily. + +"Now wasn't that awful good of me?" + +"Awful good," was the dreamy answer. "My stars're glory bright now." + +"And most likely Lafe'll help you see with your eyes, just like Happy +Pete and me!" Jinnie went on eagerly. "All the trees and hundreds of +birds, some of 'em yellow and some of 'em red, an' some of 'em so +little and cunning they could jump through the knothole in Peg's +kitchen.... Don't you wish to see all that?" + +The small face brightened and the unseeing eyes flashed upward. + +"I'd find my mother, then," breathed Bobbie. + +"And you'd see a big high tree, with a robin making his nest in it!... +Have y' ever seen that?" + +Jinnie was becoming almost aggressive, for, womanlike, with a point to +make, each argument was driven home with more power. + +"No," Bobbie admitted, and his voice held a certain tragic little +note. + +"And you've never seen the red running along the edge of the sky, just +when the sun's going down?" + +Again his answer was a simple negative. + +"And hasn't anybody tried to show you a cow and her calf in the +country, nipping the grass all day, in the yellow sunshine?" + +Jinnie was waxing eloquent, and her words held high-sounding hope. The +interest in the child's face invited her to go on. + +"Now I've said I'd let my folks be yours, and didn't I find you, and +have you got any one else? If you don't let me help you to Lafe's, how +you going to see any of 'em?" She paused before delivering her best +point, which was addressed quite indifferently to the sky. "And just +think of that hot soup!" + +This was enough. Bobbie struggled up, flushed and agitated. + +"Put your arm around me, girl," which invitation Jinnie quickly +accepted. + +Then they two, so unlike, went slowly down the walk toward the tracks +to Lafe Grandoken's home. + +Jinnie's heart vied with a trip-hammer as they turned into Paradise +Road. She did not fear the cobbler, but the thought of Peggy's harsh +voice, her ruthless catechizing, worried her not a little. +Nevertheless, she kept her arm about the boy, steadily drawing him on. +When they came to the side door of the house, the girl turned the +handle and walked in, leading her weary companion. + +Resolutely she passed on to the kitchen, for she wanted the +disagreeable part over first. She fumbled in hesitation with the knob +of the door, and Peg, hearing her, opened it. At first, the woman saw +only Jinnie, with Happy Pete by her side. Then her gaze fell upon the +other child, whose blind, entreating eyes were turned upward in +supplication. + +"This is Bobbie," announced Jinnie, "and he's come to live with us, +Peggy." + +Poor Peggy stared, surprised to silence. She could find no words to +fit the occasion. + +"He hasn't any home!" Jinnie gasped for breath in her excitement. +"Mag, a woman somewhere, beat him and he ran away and I found 'im. So +he belongs to us now." + +She was gaining assurance every moment. She hoped that Peggy was +silently acquiescing, for the woman hadn't uttered a word; she was +merely looking from one to the other with her characteristically blank +expression. + +"I'm going to give him half of Lafe, too," confided Jinnie, nodding +her head toward the waiting child. + +Then Peggy burst forth in righteous indignation. She demanded to know +how another mouth was to be fed, and clothes washed and mended; where +the brat was to sleep, and what good he was anyway. + +"Do you think, kid," she stormed at Jinnie, "you're so good yourself +we're wantin' to take another one worser off'n you are? Don't believe +it! He can't stay here!" + +Jinnie held her ground bravely. + +"Oh, I'll start right out and sell wood all day long, if you'll let +him stay, Peg." + +A tousled lock of yellow hair hung over Bobbie's eyes. + +"Oh, Peggy, dear, Mrs. Good Peggy, let me stay!" he moaned, swaying. +"I'm so tired, s'awful tired. I can't find my mother, nor no place, +and my stars're all out!" + +Sobbing plaintively, he sank to the floor, and there the childish +heart laid bare its misery. Then Jinnie, too, became quite limp, and +forgetting all about "Happy in Spite," she knelt alongside of her +newly acquired friend, and the two despairing young voices rose to the +woman standing over them. Jinnie thrust her arms around the little +boy. + +"Don't cry, my Bobbie," she sobbed. "I'll go back to the hills with +you, because you need me. We'll live with the birds and squirrels, and +I'll sell wood so we c'n eat." + +When she raised her reproachful eyes to Peg, and finished with a swipe +at her offending nose with her sleeve, she had never looked more +beautiful, and Peggy glanced away, fearing she might weaken. + +"Tell Lafe I love him, and I love you, too, Peggy. I'll come every day +and see you both, and bring you some money." + +If she had been ten years older or had spent months framing a speech +to fit the need of this occasion, Jinnie could not have been more +effective, for Peg's rage entirely ebbed at these words. + +"Get up, you brats," she ordered grimly. "An' you listen to me, Jinnie +Grandoken. Your Bobbie c'n stay, but if you ever, so long as you live, +bring another maimed, lame or blind creature to this house, I'll kick +it out in the street. Now both of you climb up to that table an' eat +some hot soup." + +Jinnie drew a long breath of happiness. She had cried a little, she +was sorry for that. She had broken her resolve always to smile--to be +"Happy in Spite." + +"I'll _never_ bring any one else in, Peg," she averred gratefully. + +Then she remembered how sweeping was her promise and changed it a +trifle. + +"Of course if a kid was awful sick in the street and didn't have a +home, I'd have to fetch it in, wouldn't I?" + +Peggy flounced over to the table, speechless, followed by the two +children. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"WHO SAYS THE KID CAN'T STAY?" + + +Twenty minutes later Mrs. Grandoken entered the shop and sat down +opposite her husband. + +"Lafe," she began, clearing her throat. + +The cobbler questioned her with a glance. + +"That girl'll be the death of this hull shanty," she announced +huskily. "I hate 'er more'n anything in the world." + +Lafe placed a half-mended shoe beside him on the bench. + +"What's ailin' 'er now, Peggy?" + +"Oh, she ain't sick," interrupted Peg, with curling lip. "She never +looked better'n she does this minute, settin' in there huddlin' that +pup, but she's brought home another kid, as bad off as a kid can be." + +"A what? What'd you say, Peg? You don't mean a youngster!" + +Mrs. Grandoken bobbed her head, her face stoically expressionless. +"An' bad off," she repeated querulously. "The young 'un's blind." + +Before Lafe's mental vision rose Jinnie's lovely face, her parted lips +and self-assured smile. + +"But where'd she get it? It must belong to some 'un." + +Mrs. Grandoken shook her head. + +"I dunno. It's a boy. He was with a woman--a bad 'un, I gather. She +beat 'im until the little feller ran away to find his own folks, he +says--and--Jinnie brought 'im home here. She says she's goin' to keep +'im." + +The speaker drew her brown skin into a network of wrinkles. + +"Where'd she find 'im?" Lafe burst forth, "Of course he can't +stay----" + +Mrs. Grandoken checked the cobbler's words with a rough gesture. + +"Hush a minute! She got 'im over near the plank walk on the hill--he +was cryin' for 'is ma." + +Lafe was plainly agitated. He felt a spasmodic clutch at his heart +when he imagined the sorrow of a homeless, blind child, but thinking +of Peg's struggle to make a little go a long way, he dashed his +sympathy resolutely aside. + +"Of course he can't stay--he can't!" he murmured. "It ain't possible +for you to keep 'im here." + +In his excitement Lafe bent forward and closed his hands over Peg's +massive shoulder bones. Peggy coughed hoarsely and looked away. + +"Who says the kid can't stay?" she muttered roughly. "Who said he +can't?" + +The words jumped off the woman's tongue in sullen defiance. + +"But you got too much to do now, Peg. We've made you a lot of trouble, +woman dear, an' you sure don't want to take another----" + +Like a flash, Peg's features changed. She squinted sidewise as if a +strong light suddenly hurt her sight. + +"Who said I didn't?" she drawled. "Some husbands do make me mad, when +they're tellin' me what I want, an' what I don't want. I hate the +blind brat like I do the girl, but he's goin' to stay just the same." + +A deep flush dyed Lafe's gray face. The intensity of his emotion was +almost a pain. Life had ever vouchsafed Lafe Grandoken encouragement +when the dawn was darkest. Now Peg's personal insult lined his clouds +of fear with silver, and they sailed away in rapid succession as +quickly as they had come; he saw them going like shadows under +advancing sun rays. + +"Peggy," he said, touching her gently, "you've the biggest heart in +all the world, and you're the very best woman; you be, sure! If you +let the poor little kid stay, I'll make more money, if God gives me +strength." + +Peggy pushed Lafe's hand from her arm. + +"I 'spose if you do happen to get five cents more, you'll puff out +with pride till you most bust.... Anyway, it won't take much more to +buy grub for a kid with an appetite like a bird.... Come on! I'll +wheel you to the kitchen so you can have a look at 'im." + +Jinnie glanced around as the husband and wife entered the room. She +pushed Happy Pete from her lap and got up. + +"Lafe," she exclaimed, "this is Bobbie--he's come to live with us." + +She drew the blind boy from his chair and went forward. + +"Bobbie," she explained, "this is the cobbler. I told you about him in +the park. See 'im with your fingers once, and you'll know he's the +best man ever." + +The small boy lifted two frail arms, his lips quivering in fright and +homesickness. Some feeling created by God rose insistent within Lafe. +It was a response from the heart of the Good Shepherd, who had always +gathered into his fold the bruised ones of the world. Lafe drew the +child to his lap. + +"Poor little thing!" he murmured sadly. + +With curling lips, his wife stood watching the pair. + +"You're a bigger fool'n I thought you was, Lafe Grandoken," she said, +turning away sharply. "I wouldn't make such a fuss over no one livin'. +That's just what I wouldn't." + +She threw the last remark over her shoulder as if it were something +she spurned and wanted to be rid of. + +Bobbie slipped from Lafe's arms and described a zigzag course across +the kitchen floor toward the place where Mrs. Grandoken stood. His +hands fluttered over Peg's dress, as high as they could reach. + +"I like you awful well, Mrs. Peggy," he told her, "and I just love +your kisses, too, Mrs. Peggy dear. They made my stars shine all over +my head." + +The cobbler's wife started guiltily, casting her eyes upon Lafe. He +was silent, his patient face expressing melancholy sweetness. As far +as the woman could determine, he had not heard the boy's words. +Relieved, she allowed her eyes to rest upon Jinnie. The girl was +looking directly at her. Then Jinnie slowly dropped one white lid over +a bright, gleeful blue eye in a wicked little wink. This was more than +Peggy could endure. She _had_ kissed the little boy several times +during the process of washing the tear-stained face and combing the +tangled hair, but that any one should know it! Just then, Peggy +secretly said to herself, "If uther one of them kids get any more +kisses from me, it'll be when water runs uphill. I 'spose now I'll +never hear the last of them smacks." + +"Let go my skirt! Get away, kid," she ordered Bobbie. + +The boy dropped his hands reluctantly. He had hoped for another kiss. + +"Peggy," said Lafe, "can I hold him? He seems so sad." + +Mrs. Grandoken, consciously grim, placed the boy in her husband's +lap. + +"You see," philosophized Jinnie, when she and the blind child were +with the cobbler, "if a blind kid hasn't any place to live, the girl +who finds 'im has to bring him home! Huh, Lafe?" + +Then she whispered in his ear, "Couldn't Bobbie join the 'Happy in +Spite'?" + +"Sure he can, lass; sure he can," assented Lafe. + +Jinnie whirled back to the little boy. + +"Bobbie, would you like to come in a club that'll make you happy as +long's you live?" + +The bright blind eyes of the boy flashed from Jinnie to the man, and +he got to his feet tremulously. In his little mind, out of which +daylight was shut, Jinnie's words presaged great joy. The girl took +his hand and led him to the cobbler. + +"You'll have to explain the club to 'im, Lafe," she said. + +"Yes, 'splain it to me, Lafe dearie," purred Bobbie. + +"It's just a club," began Lafe, "only good to keep a body happy. Now, +me--well, I'm happy in spite a-havin' no legs; Jinnie there, she's +happy in spite a-havin' no folks. Her and me's happy in spite a +everything." + +Bobbie stood alongside Lafe's bench, one busy set of fingers picking +rhythmically at the cobbler's coat, the other having sought and found +his hand. + +"I want to be in the club, cobbler," he whispered. + +Mr. Grandoken stooped and kissed the quivering face. + +"An' you'll be happy in spite a havin' no eyes?" he questioned. + +The little boy, pressing his cheek against the man's arm, cooed in +delight. + +"And happy in spite of not finding your mother right yet?" interjected +Jinnie. + +"Yes, yes, 'cause I _am_ happy. I got my beautiful Peggy, ain't I? And +don't she make me a hull lot of fine soup, and ain't I got Lafe, Happy +Pete----" + +"You got me, too, Bobbie," Jinnie reminded him gently. + +Bobbie acquiesced by a quick bend of his head, and Lafe grasped his +hand. + +"Now you're a member of the 'Happy in Spite', Bob," said he smiling. +"This club is what I call a growin' affair. Four members----" + +"Everybody's in," burst forth Jinnie. + +"Except Peggy," sighed Lafe. "Some day something'll bring her in, +too." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +JINNIE'S EAR GETS A TWEAK + + +Bobbie had been at the Grandoken home scarcely a week before Jinnie +again got into difficulty. One morning, wide-awake, beside the blind +boy, she happened to glance toward the door. There stood Peg, her face +distorted by rage, staring at her with terrible eyes. Jinnie sat up in +a twinkling. + +"What is it, Peggy, dear?" she faltered. "What have I done now?" + +Without reply, Peggy marched to the bed and took the girl by the ear. +In this way she pulled her to the floor, walking her ahead of her to +the kitchen. + +"I don't know what I've done, Peggy," repeated Jinnie, meekly. + +"I'll show you. You'll know, all right, miss! Now if you've eyes, +squint down there!" + +She was pointing to the floor, and as the room was rather dark, Jinnie +at first could discern nothing. Then as her eyes became accustomed to +the shadows, she saw---- + +"Oh, what is it, Peggy? Oh, my! Oh, my!" + +Peggy gave her a rough little shake. + +"I'll tell you what, Jinnie Grandoken, without any more ado. Well, +they're cats, just plain everyday cats! Another batch of Miss Milly +Ann's kits, if y' want to know. They can't stay in this house, miss, +an' when I say a thing, I mean it! My word's law in this shanty!" + +She was still holding the girl's ear, and suddenly gave it another +tweak. Jinnie pulled this tender member from Peggy's fingers with a +delighted little chuckle. + +"Peggy darling, aren't they sweet? Oh, Peggy----" + +"Ain't they sweet?" mimicked Peggy. "They're just sweet 'nough to get +chucked out. Now, you get dressed, an' take 'em somewhere. D' you +hear?" + +Jinnie wheeled about for another tug of war. It was dreadful how she +had to fight with Peggy to get her own way about things like this. +First with Happy Pete, then with Bobbie, and now--to-day--with five +small kittens, not one of them larger than the blind child's hand. She +looked into Mrs. Grandoken's face, which was still grim, but Jinnie +decided not quite so grim as when the woman appeared at her bedroom +door. + +"I suppose you'll go in an' honey round Lafe in a minute, thinkin' +he'll help you keep 'em," said Mrs. Grandoken. "But this time it won't +do no good." + +"Peggy!" blurted Jinnie. + +"Shut your mouth! An' don't be Peggyin' me, or I'll swat you," vowed +Peg. + +The woman glared witheringly into a pair of beseeching blue eyes. + +"Get into your clothes, kid," she ordered immediately, "then you----" + +"Then I'll come back, dear," gurgled Jinnie, "and do just what you +want me to." Then with subtle modification, she continued, "I mean, +Peg, I'll do just what you want me to after I've talked about it a +bit... Oh, please, let me give 'em one little kiss apiece." + +Peggy flounced to the stove. + +"Be a fool an' kiss 'em if you want to... I hate 'em." + +In the coarse nightdress Peggy had made for her, Jinnie sat down +beside Milly Ann. The yellow mother purred in delight. She'd brought +them five new babies, and no idea entered her mother heart that she +would have to part with even one. + +Out came the kittens into the girl's lap, and one by one they were +tenderly lifted to be kissed. Both Peggy and the kisser were silent +while this loving operation was in process. Then Jinnie, still +sitting, looked from Milly Ann to Peggy. + +"I guess she's awful fond of her children, don't you, Peg?" + +Peggy didn't answer. + +"You see it's like this, Peg----" + +"Didn't I tell you not to Peggy me?" + +"Then it's like this, darling," drawled Jinnie, trying to be +obedient. + +"An' you needn't darlin' me nuther," snapped Peggy. + +Jinnie thought a minute. + +"Then it's like this, honey bunch," she smiled again. + +Peg whirled around on her. + +"Say, you kid----" + +"Wait, dearie!" implored Jinnie. "Don't you know mother cats always +love their kitties just like live mothers do their babies?" + +Peggy rattled the stove lids outrageously. Hearing these words, she +stopped abruptly. Who knows where her thoughts flew? Jinnie didn't, +for sure, but she thought, by the sudden change of Mrs. Grandoken's +expression, she could guess. + +The woman looked from Milly Ann to the wriggling kittens in Jinnie's +lap, then she stooped down and again brought to view Jinnie's little +ear tucked away under the black curls. + +"Get up out o' here an' dress; will you? I've said them cats've got to +go, and go they will!" + +Jinnie returned the kittens to their mother, and when she got back to +her room, Bobbie was sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes. + +"I couldn't find you, girl," he whimpered. "I felt the bed over and +you was gone." + +Jinnie bent over him. + +"Peg took me out in the kitchen, dear... What do you think, Bobbie?" + +Bobbie began to tremble. + +"I got to go away from here ... eh?" + +"Mercy, no!" laughed Jinnie. "Milly Ann's got a lot of new babies." + +Bobbie gave a delighted squeal. + +"Now I'll have something else to love, won't I?" he gurgled. + +Jinnie hoped so! But she hadn't yet received Peg's consent to keep the +family, so when the little boy was dressed and she had combed her hair +and dressed herself, they went into the shop, where the cobbler met +them with a smile. + +"Peg's mad," Jinnie observed with a comprehensive glance at Mr. +Grandoken. + +"Quite so," replied Lafe, grinning over the bowl of his pipe. "She had +frost on her face a inch thick when she discovered them cats. I +thought she'd hop right out of the window." + +"She says I must throw 'em away," ventured Jinnie. + +"Cluck! Cluck!" struck Lafe's tongue against the roof of his mouth, +and he smiled. Jinnie loved that cluck. It put her in mind of the +Mottville mother hens scratching for their chickens. + +"Hain't she ever said anything like that to you before, lass?" the +cobbler suggested presently. + +"She said it about me," piped in Bobbie. + +"An' about Happy Pete, too," added Lafe. + +"I bet I keep 'em," giggled Jinnie. + +"I'll bet with you, kid," said the cobbler gravely. + +"I want to see 'em!" Bobbie clamored with a squeak. + +But he'd no more than made the statement before the door burst +violently open and Peg stood before them. Her apron was gathered +together in front, held by one gripping hand; something moved against +her knees as if it were alive. In the other hand was Milly Ann, +carried by the nape of her neck, hanging straight down at the woman's +side, her long yellow tail dragging on the floor. The woman looked +like an avenging angel. + +"I've come to tell you folks something," she imparted in a very loud +voice. "Here's this blasted ragtail, that's went an' had this batch of +five cats. Now I'm goin' to warn y' all----" + +Bobbie interrupted her with a little yelp. + +"Let me love one, Peggy, dear," he begged. + +"I'm goin' to warn you folks," went on Peg, without heeding the +child's interjection, "that--if--you don't want their necks wrung, +you'd better keep 'em out of my way." + +Saying this, she dropped the mother cat with a soft thud, and without +looking up, dumped the kittens on top of her, and stalked out of the +room. + +When Jinnie appeared five minutes later in the kitchen with a small +kitten in her hand, Peg was stirring the mush for breakfast. + +"You hate the kitties, eh, Peg?" asked Jinnie. + +The two tense wrinkles at the corners of Mrs. Grandoken's mouth didn't +relax by so much as a hair's line. + +"Hate 'em!" she snapped, "I should say I do! I hate every one of them +cats, and I hate you, too! An' if y' don't like it, y' can lump it. If +the lumps is too big, smash 'em." + +"I know you hate us, darling," Jinnie admitted, "but, Peg, I want to +tell you this: it's ever so much easier to love folks than to hate +'em, and as long as the kitties're going to stay, I thought mebbe if +you kissed 'em once--" Then she extended the kitten. "I brought you +one to try on." + +"Well, Lord-a-massy, the girl's crazy!" expostulated Peg. "Keep the +cats if you're bound to, you kid, but get out of this kitchen or I'll +kiss you both with the broom." + +Jinnie disappeared, and Peggy heard a gleeful laugh as the girl +scurried back to the shop. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +JINNIE DISCOVERS HER KING'S THRONE + + +Two years and almost half of another had passed since Jinnie first +came to live with Lafe and Peggy Grandoken. These two years had meant +more to her than all the other fifteen in her life. Lafe, in his +kindly, fatherly way, daily impressed upon her the need of her +studying and no day passed without planting some knowledge in the +eager young mind. + +Her mornings were spent gathering shortwood, her afternoons in selling +it, but the hours outside these money-earning duties were passed +between her fiddle and her books. The cobbler often remarked that her +mumbling over those difficult lessons at his side taught him more than +he'd ever learned in school. Sometimes when they were having +heart-to-heart talks, Jinnie confided to him her ambitions. + +"I'd like to fiddle all my life, Lafe," she told him once. "I wonder +if people ever made money fiddling; do they, Lafe?" + +"I'm afraid not, honey," he answered, sadly. + +"But you like it, eh, Lafe?" + +"Sure!... Better'n anything." + +One day in the early summer, when there was a touch of blue mist in +the clear, warm air, Jinnie wandered into the wealthy section of the +town, hoping thereby to establish a new customer or two. + +Maudlin Bates had warned her not to enter his territory or to trespass +upon his part of the marshland, and for that reason she had in the +past but turned longing eyes to the hillside besprinkled with handsome +homes. + +But Lafe replied, when she told him this, "No section belongs to +Maudlin alone, honey.... Just go where you like." + +She now entered a large open gate into which an automobile had just +disappeared, and walked toward the house. + +She paused to admire the exterior of the mansion. On the front, the +porches were furnished with rocking chairs and hammocks, but no person +was in sight. She walked around to the back, but as she was about to +knock, a voice arrested her action. + +"Do you want to see somebody?" + +She turned hastily. There before her was her King, the man she had met +on that memorable night more than two years before. He doffed his cap +smiling, recognizing her immediately, and Jinnie flushed to the roots +of her hair, while the shortwood strap slipped slowly from her +shoulders. + +"Ah, you have something to sell?" he interrogated. + +Jinnie's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She had never +completely forgotten him, and his smile was a delightful memory. Now +as he watched her quizzically, all her former admiration returned. + +"Well, well," laughed the man, "if this isn't my little violin girl. +It's a long time since I saw you last.... Do you love your music as +much as ever?" + +Her first glance at him brought the flushing consciousness that she +was but a shortwood gatherer; the strap and its burden placed a great +barrier between them. But his question about the fiddle, her fiddle, +placed her again on equal footing with him. She permitted herself to +smile. + +"I play every day. My uncle loves it, but my aunt doesn't," she +answered naively. + +"And you're selling wood?" + +"Yes, I must help a little." + +She made the assertion proudly, offering no excuse for her chosen +trade. + +"And this is all for sale?" indicating the wood. + +"Yes," said Jinnie, looking down upon it. + +"I'll take it all," Theodore offered, putting his hand into his +pocket. "How much do you want for it?" + +The girl gave him a puzzled glance. "I don't just know, but I +wish----I wish I could give it to you without any pay." + +She moved a little closer and questioned eagerly: + +"Won't you please take it?" + +An amused expression crossed the man's handsome face. + +"Of course not, my child," he exclaimed. "That wouldn't be business. I +want to buy it.... How about a dollar?" + +Jinnie gasped. A dollar, a whole dollar! She made but little more +during an entire week; she had made less. A dollar would buy----Then a +thought flashed across her mind. + +"I couldn't take a dollar," she refused, "it's too much. It's only +worth about twenty cents." + +"But if I choose to give you a dollar?" pursued the man. + +Again the purple black curls shook decidedly. + +"I couldn't take more'n it's worth. My uncle wouldn't like me to. He +says all we can expect in this world's our own and no more. Twenty +cents is all." + +Mr. King studied her face, thoughtfully. + +"I've an idea, a good one. Now what do you say to furnishing me wood +every morning, say at fifty cents a day. We use such a lot! You could +bring a little more if you like or--or come twice." + +Jinnie could scarcely believe she'd heard aright. Unshed tears dimmed +her eyes. + +"I wouldn't have to peddle to any one else, then, would I?" she +stammered. + +"No! That's just what I meant." + +Then the tears welled over the drooping lids and a feeling of +gratitude surged through the girl's whole being. Fifty cents a day! It +was such a lot of money--as much as Lafe made five days out of six. + +Jinnie sent the man a fleeting glance, meeting his smiling eyes with +pulsing blood. + +"I'd love to do it," she whispered gratefully. "Then I'd have a lot of +time to--to--fiddle." + +Mr. King's hand slipped into his pocket. + +"I'll pay you fifty cents for to-day's wood," he decided, "and fifty +for what you're going to bring to-morrow. Is that satisfactory?" + +As if in a dream, Jinnie tumbled out the contents of the shortwood +strap. As she took the money from Mr. King's hand, his fingers touched +hers; she thrilled to the tips of her curls. Then she ran hastily down +the long road, only turning to glance back when she reached the gate. +Mr. King stood just where she had left him, and was looking after her. +He raised his cap, and Jinnie, with burning face, fled on again. + +She wondered what Lafe would say about her unexpected good fortune. +She would tell _him_ first, before she saw Peggy. She imagined how the +sweet smile would cross his lips, and how he would put his arm gently +around her. + +Lafe heard her open the side door and called, + +"Come in, honey!... Come on in." + +She entered after one hasty glance proved the cobbler was alone. + +"You sold quick to-day, lass," said he, holding out his hand. + +Jinnie had planned on the way home to make great rehearsing of +Theodore King's kindness, but in another instant she broke forth: + +"Lafe, Lafe! I've got something to tell you! Oh, a lovely something! I +sold all the wood to one man, and I'm going to take him a load every +day, and get fifty cents for it. Regular customer, Lafe!... Here's a +dollar for Peg." + +Lafe did just what Jinnie expected he would, slipped an arm about her +waist. + +"The good God be praised!" he ejaculated. "Stand here an' tell me all +about it." + +"It was Mr. King----" + +"Theodore King?" asked Lafe. "Why, he's the richest man in town. He +owns the iron works." + +Jinnie nodded. "Yes! He's the one I played for in the train when I +first came here. You remember my telling you, Lafe? And he wants wood +every day from me. Isn't it fine?" + +"'Tis so!" affirmed Lafe. "Jinnie, lass, them angels come in shapes of +human bein's--mostly so. Now go tell Peggy. It'll take a load off'n +her heart." + +As Jinnie told her story to Mrs. Grandoken and handed her the money, +the woman's lips twitched at the corners, but she only said, +warningly: + +"Don't get a swelled head over your doin's, lass, for a brat ain't +responsible for her own smartness." + +One morning, about a week afterward, Jinnie rapped at the back door of +the King mansion. + +"Is Mr. King in?" she asked timidly of the servant. + +The girl stared hard at the flushed, pretty face. + +"He's in, but you can leave the wood if you want to." + +"No," refused Jinnie. "I want to see him." + +The maid turned away, grumbling, and Jinnie backed from the door with +bated breath. + +Mr. King appeared immediately, seemingly embarrassed. He took both her +hands. + +"Why, my dear child!" he exclaimed. "I'd completely forgotten to leave +the money for the wood, and you've been bringing it every day." + +"Peggy made the dollar go a long ways--that and Lafe's money. We +didn't need any till to-day.... So--so I asked for you." + +"I'm glad you did," responded King, counting and giving her the +money. + +Then his glance fell upon the bulging shortwood strap. + +"I'm afraid you carry too much at a time," he admonished, gravely. +"You mustn't do that." + +Jinnie dropped her eyes. + +"I was talking to my uncle about it," she explained embarrassedly, +"and he thought same's I, that you were paying too much for that +little wood. I'm goin' to bring more after this." + +"I'm satisfied, though, and I can't have you hurting yourself by being +too strenuously honest.... I might--yes, I will! I'll send for you +every day or every other----" + +Jinnie's eyes lighted up with happiness. + +"Oh, sir,----" she began entreatingly. + +"Wait----" said Mr. King. "It's this way! If you brought it up here in +one of my cars, it would save a lot of your time, and you wouldn't +have to come every day." + +"I could fiddle more," Jinnie blurted radiantly. She remembered how +sympathetically he had listened to her through the blizzard. He liked +the fiddle! She went a little nearer him. "I'm trying to make a tune +different from any I've ever done, and I can't always play well after +lugging shortwood all day.... I'd love to deliver it the way you +said." + +King stood gazing at her. How strangely beautiful she was! Something +in the wind-browned face stirred his heart to its depths. + +"Then that's settled," he said kindly. "You tell me where to have my +man and what time, and to-morrow he'll meet you." + +Jinnie thought a moment. + +"I wonder if he knows where Paradise Road ends near the edge of the +marsh." + +"He could find it, of course." + +"There's a path going into the marsh right at the end of the road. +I'll meet him there to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and--and I'm so much +obliged to you." + +When Jinnie told Lafe of the new arrangement, she gurgled with joy. + +"Lafe, now I'll make that tune." + +"Yes, honey," murmured Lafe contentedly. "Now get your fiddle and +practice; after that you c'n study a while out of that there grammar +book." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +RED ROSES AND YELLOW + + +The days went on peacefully after the new arrangements for the +shortwood. Every other day, at twelve o'clock, one of Theodore King's +cars waited for Jinnie at the head of the path leading into the +marsh. + +When the weather was stormy, Bennett, the chauffeur, took the wood, +telling Jinnie to run along home. + +All this made it possible for Jinnie to study profitably during the +warm months, and by the last of August she had mastered many difficult +subjects. Lafe helped her when he could, but often shook his head +despondently as she sat down beside him on the bench, asking his +advice. + +"The fact is, honey, I ain't got much brains," he said to her one +afternoon. "If I hung by my neck till I could see through them +figures, I'd be as dead as Moses." + +One Thursday morning, as she climbed into the big car with her load, +Bennett said, + +"I ain't goin' to pay you this mornin'! The boss'll do it. Mr. King +wants to see you." + +Jinnie nodded, her heart pounding. + +It was delightful to contemplate seeing him once more. She wondered +where he had been all these days and if he had thought of her. +Jinnie's pulses were galloping along like a race horse. She stood +quietly until the master was called, and he came quickly without +making her wait. + +"I'm going to ask you to do me a favor," he said, coming forward, +holding out his hand. + +Now when Jinnie first heard that he wished to see her, she thought her +heart could beat no faster, but his words made that small organ tattoo +against her sides like the flutter of a bird's wing in fright. She +could do something for him! Oh, what joy! What unutterable joy! + +"We're going to have some friends here Sunday evening----" + +The sudden upfling of Jinnie's head cut off his words. + +What difference would his having friends make to her? Oh, yes, they +wanted more wood. How gladly she would get it for him; search all day +for the driest pieces if he needed them! + +"I was wondering," proceeded Mr. King, "if you would come here with +your violin and play for--for--us?" + +Jinnie's knees relaxed and she staggered back against the wall. + +"You musn't feel embarrassed about it," he hurried on. "I'd be very +much indebted to you if you thought you could." + +Tears were so perilously near Jinnie's lids that some of them rolled +into her throat. To regain her self-possession enough to speak, she +swallowed several times in rapid succession. Such a compliment she'd +never been paid before. She brought her hands together appealingly, +and Mr. King noticed that his request had heightened her color. + +"I'd love to do it," she breathed. + +"Of course I'll pay you for it," he said, not able to think of +anything else, + +"I couldn't take any money for fiddling," replied Jinnie. "But I'll +come. Lafe says money can't be made that way." + +She turned to go, but Mr. King detained her. + +"Wait a minute," he insisted. "I want to tell you something! You've a +great gift--a wonderful genius--and out of such genius much money +_is_ made.... I couldn't think of letting you come here unless you +allowed me to remunerate you." + +Jinnie listened attentively to all he said, but refusal was still in +her steady gaze. Mr. King, seeing this, continued quickly: + +"I want you very much, but on that one point I must have my way. I +shall give you twenty-five dollars for playing three pieces." + +Then Jinnie thought she was going to faint. Twenty-five dollars! It +was a fortune--a huge fortune! But she couldn't take money for playing +tunes that came from her heart--tunes that were a part of herself the +same as her hands or feet. But before she could offer another +argument, the man finished hurriedly: + +"It's settled now. You're to come here Sunday night at eight. I'll +send for you." + +Lafe was sitting at the window as she ran through the shortcut along +the tracks. Her curls were flying in the wind, her cheeks glowing with +flaming color. Every day the cobbler loved her more, for in spite of +the dark soil in which Jinnie thrived, she grew lovelier in spirit and +face. + +He waved his hand to her, and both of her arms answered his salute. +When the door burst open, Lafe put down his hammer expectantly. Before +he could speak, she was down upon her knees at his side, her curly +head buried in his loving arms, and tears were raining down her face. + +Lafe allowed her to cry a few moments. Then he said: + +"Something's hurt my lassie's heart.... Somebody!... Was it Maudlin?" + +Through the tears shone a radiant smile. + +"I'm crying for joy, Lafe," she sobbed. "I'm going to play my fiddle +at Mr. King's house and make twenty-five dollars for three tunes." + +Lafe's jaws dropped apart incredulously. + +"Twenty-five dollars for playin' your fiddle, child?" + +Jinnie told all that had happened since leaving home. + +Then Peggy had to be told, and when the amount of money was mentioned +and Jinnie said: + +"It'll all be yours, Peggy, when I get it," + +Mrs. Grandoken grunted: + +"You didn't make your insides, lassie. It ain't to your credit you can +fiddle, so don't get stuck up." + +Jinnie laughed gaily and went to the kitchen, where for two hours, +with Bobbie curled up in the chair holding Happy Pete, she brought +from the strings of the instrument she loved, mournful tunes mingled +with laughing songs, such as no one in Bellaire had ever heard. + +Over and over, as Lafe listened, he wondered where and how such music +could be born in the child--for Jinnie, to the lame cobbler, would +always be a little, little girl. + +Later Jinnie went to the store, and when Peggy had watched her cross +the street, she sat down in front of her husband. + +"Lafe," she said, "what's the kid goin' to wear to King's?... She +can't go in them clothes she's got on." + +Lafe looked up, startled. + +"Sure 'nough; I never thought of that," he answered. "An' I don't +believe she has uther." + +It was the cobbler who spoke to Jinnie about it. + +"I suppose you hain't thought what you're going to wear Sunday +night?" + +Jinnie whirled around upon him. + +"Oh, Lafe!" she faltered, sitting down quickly. + +"Peggy 'lowed you'd forgotten that part of it." + +"I did, Lafe; I did! Oh, I don't know what to do!" + +"I wisht I had somethin' for you, Jinnie dear," breathed Bobbie, +touching her hand. + +Jinnie's only response was to put her fingers on the child's head--her +eyes still on the cobbler. + +"What did Peggy say, Lafe?" + +"Nothin', only you couldn't go in the clothes you got." + +Jinnie changed her position that she might see to better advantage the +plain little dress she was wearing. + +"But I've got to go, Lafe; oh, I've got to!" she insisted. "Mr. King +wants me.... Please, Lafe, please!" + +"Call Peggy, Bobbie," said Lafe, in answer to Jinnie's impetuous +speech. + +Bobbie felt his way to the door, and Peggy came in answer to the +child's call. + +"I only thought of the twenty-five dollars and the fiddling, Peggy," +said Jinnie as Mrs. Grandoken rolled her hands in her apron and sat +down. "Did you say I couldn't go in these clothes?" + +"I did; I sure did. You can't go in them clothes, an' what you're +goin' to wear is more'n I can make out. I'll have to think.... Just +let me alone for a little while." + +It was after Jinnie had gone to bed with Bobbie that Peg spoke about +it again to Lafe. + +"I've only got one thing I could rig her a dress out of," she said. "I +don't want to do it because I hate her so! If I hated her any worse, +I'd bust!" + +The cobbler raised his hand, making a gesture of denial. + +"Peggy, dear, you don't hate the poor little lass." + +"Yes, I do," said Peg. "I hate everybody in the world but you.... +Everybody but you, Lafe." + +"What'd you think might make a dress for 'er?" asked Grandoken +presently. + +Before answering, Peg brought her feet together and looked down at her +toes. "There's them lace curtains ma give me when she died," she said. +"Them that's wrapped up in paper on the shelf." + +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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE LITTLE FIDDLER + + +Jinnie's heart was skipping about like a silly little kitten as she +sat watching Peg's stiff fingers making large stitches in the lace. + +"Oh, Peg, isn't it lovely? Perfectly beautiful! Nobody ever had a +dress like that!... My, Peggy! How your fingers fly!" + +Peg's face was noncommittal to the point of blankness. + +"Tain't no credit to me what my hands do, Miss Jinnie," she said +querulously. "I didn't make 'em." + +The girl's happiness was absolutely complete. The dress would be +finished and Sunday evening----oh, Sunday evening! Then she walked +restlessly to the window and studied the sky. + +"I hope it doesn't rain to-morrow!... Oh, Peggy, don't you hope so +too?" Mrs. Grandoken glowered at her. + +"Kid," she said, "come away from that window. You been doin' nothin' +but wishin' 'twon't rain all day. You'll wear out the patience of the +Almighty; then he'll make it rain an' soak you through a-purpose." + +"I don't know which I like best, Lafe," the girl remarked presently, +turning to the cobbler, "the red roses or the yellow." + +Bobbie came to Jinnie's side and fingered the lace. + +"Tell me how the dress looks, dear," he whispered, tugging at her +sleeve. + +[Illustration: "YOU NEEDN'T FEEL SO GLAD NOR LOOK AS IF YOU WAS GOIN' TO +TUMBLE OVER. IT AIN'T NO CREDIT TO ANYONE THEM CURTAINS +WAS ON THE SHELF WAITIN' TO BE CUT UP IN A DRESS FOR YOU +TO FIDDLE IN."] + +"Sure," agreed Jinnie. "Feel right here! Well, that's a beautiful red +rose and here's a yellow one." She took his small finger and traced it +over a yard of lace. "Feel that?" + +"Yes," murmured Bobbie. + +"Well, that's a green vine running up and down, and all around among +the roses." + +"Oh, my!" gasped Bobbie. "Red and yellow. That's how the sun looks +when it's goin' down, ain't it? And green's like the grass, eh?" + +"Just the same," replied Jinnie, laughing. + +"It's a beauty," supplemented Lafe, glowing with tenderness. "There +won't be a dress at that party that'll beat it." + +Mrs. Grandoken shook out the voluminous folds of lace. + +"Anybody'd think to hear you folks talk that you'd made these rag tags +with your toe nails," she observed dryly. "The smacking of some folks' +lips over sugar they don't earn makes me tired! Laws me!... Now I'll +try it on you, Jinnie," she ended. + +Jinnie turned around and around with slow precision as Mrs. Grandoken +ascertained the correct hanging of the skirt. When the last stitches +had been put in, and the dress lay in all its gorgeous splendor across +the chair, Peg coughed awkwardly and spoke of shoes. + +"You can't wear them cowhides with lace," said she. + +"I might make a pair if I had a day and the stuff," suggested Lafe, +looking around helplessly. + +"Ain't time," replied Peg. And of course it was she who gave Jinnie +some money taken from a small bag around her neck and ordered her to +the shop for shoes. + +"She ought to have a fiddle box," Lafe suggested. + +"There ain't 'nough money in the house for that," replied Peg--"but +I'll give her a piece of the curtains to wrap it up in." + +"That'll look better'n a box," smiled Lafe. "I'm a happy cobbler, I +am." + +When Jinnie returned with a pair of low black slippers, no one noticed +that they weren't quite what should have been worn with a lace frock. +Contentment reigned supreme in the Grandoken home that day. + + * * * * * + +Sunday evening at seven Jinnie displayed herself to Lafe. The cobbler +gave a contented nod. + +"You and the dress're beautiful," he ruminated. "Wonderful!... Kiss +me, Jinnie!" + +She not only kissed Lafe, but Bobbie, Happy Pete, and Milly Ann, too, +came in for their share. Peg looked so sour, so forbidding, that +Jinnie only faltered, + +"Much obliged, Peggy darling.... Oh, I'm so happy!" She stood directly +in front of Mrs. Grandoken. "Aren't you, dear?" she besought. + +"We're all glad, lass," put in the cobbler. + +Jinnie's blue, blue eyes were seeking approbation from the gaunt, +frowning woman. + +"None of you've got the sense of my bedpost," snapped Peg, sniffing +the air. "Get along. They're waitin' for you." + +Jinnie arrived in great excitement at Theodore King's door. She +stumbled up the stone steps of the mansion with the fiddle carefully +wrapped under her arm. + +"Is Mr. King here?" she asked of the maid, hesitatingly. + +She stood very still, scarcely breathing, until they called the master +of the house, and as Theodore's eyes fell upon the lace dress, with +its red and yellow roses and green vines running the length of the +slim young figure, he smoothed away a smile that forced itself to his +lips. + +Out of gratitude to Peggy, Jinnie felt she ought to speak of the +frock, so with an admiring glance downward, she confided: + +"Peggy made my dress out of her dead mother's curtains, and gave me +this piece for my fiddle.... Wasn't it lovely of her?" + +The pleading, soulful, violet eyes stirred Theodore King with a new +sensation. He had passed unscathed through the fires of imploring, +inviting glances and sweet, tempting lips, nor yet realized that some +day this black-haired girl would call him to a reckoning. + +"It's very pretty, very pretty," he affirmed hurriedly. "I'm glad +you're here.... Just wait for a moment. I'll come back for you." + +There was a fixed line between his handsome eyes as he faced his +guests. Theodore couldn't analyze his feelings toward Jinnie, but he +was determined none should make sport of her. + +"I've prepared a great treat for you," he stated, smiling, "but I want +to ask you to overlook anything that may seem incongruous, for the +musician is very sensitive." + +Then he went back for Jinnie, and she followed him into the large +room. The gorgeous red and yellow roses in the limply hanging blouse +lent a color to her sunburned skin. + +"You may play anything you like," Theodore whispered. + +"All right," nodded Jinnie. + +She unwrapped the fiddle and tuned it with nimble fingers. Not until +she placed the instrument under her chin did she raise her head. Her +eyes went searchingly from face to face of the attentive assembly. It +so happened that they fell upon a crown of golden hair above a pair of +dark eyes she vividly remembered. The glance took her back to that +night more than two years before--to the night when her father died. + +Molly Merriweather was seated in queenly fashion in one of the large +chairs, a questioning look stealing over her countenance. Jinnie +smiled at her and began to play. It might have been the beautiful +woman opposite that brought forth the wild hill story, told in +marvelous harmonies. The rapt young face gave no sign of +embarrassment, for Jinnie was completely lost in her melodious task. +Above the dimpled chin that hugged the brown fiddle, Theodore King +could see the brooding genius of the girl, and longed to bring a +passionate lovelight for himself into the glorious eyes. The intensity +of the music established in him an unconquerable hope--a hope that +could not die as long as life was in him, as long as life was in the +little fiddler. + +As Jinnie finished with dramatic brilliancy, great applause and +showers of congratulations fell upon her ears. Theodore went to her +quickly. + +"Wonderful! Splendid, child!" he declared joyously. "You're a +genius!" + +His words increased her joy--his compelling dark eyes added to her +desire to do her best. + +She meditated one moment. Then thoroughly unconscious of herself, +turned and spoke to the audience. + +"I'll play about fairies ... the ones who live in the woods and hide +away in the flowers and under the leaves." + +Once more she began to play. She believed in fairies with all her +heart and had no doubt but that every one else did. Under the spell of +her music and her loveliness, imaginary elves stole from the solitude +of the summer night, to join their tiny hands and dance to the rhythm +of her song. + +As she lowered her violin and looked around, she saw astonishment on +the faces of the strangers about her. A deathlike hush prevailed and +Jinnie could hear the feverish blood as it struck at her temples. +Into her eyes came an unfathomable expression, and Theodore King, +attracted by their latent passion, went rapidly to her. + +"It's exquisite!" he said vehemently. "Can't you see how much every +one likes it?" + +"Do you?" queried Jinnie, looking up at him. + +"I love it, child; I love it.... Will you play again, please?" + +A flame of joy suffused her as again she turned to the open-eyed +crowd. + +"Once," she informed them, "a big lion was hurt in the forest by +lightning.... This--is--how he died." + +She slowly raised the instrument, and sounded a vibrant, resonant, +minor tone, measured, full and magnificent. Each listener sank back +with a sigh. + +Jinnie knew the mysteries of the forest as well as a singer knows his +song, and she had not presented ten notes to the imagination of +Theodore's friends before they were carried away from the dainty room +in which they sat--away into a dense woodland where, for a few +minutes, she demonstrated the witching wonders of it. Then she slipped +the bow between her teeth and struck the violin strings with the backs +of her fingers. The vibrations of impetuous harmony swept softly +through the lighted room. Louder and louder was heard the awful fury +of approaching thunder, while twinkling string-touches flashed forth +the lightning between the sonorous peals. + +Jinnie never knew how the fiddle was capable of expressing the +cautious tread of the terrified king of beasts in his isolated +kingdom, but her listeners beheld him steal cautiously from the +underbrush. They saw him crouch in abject terror at the foot of a +wide-spreading, gigantic tree, lashing his tail in elemental rage. +Then another scintillating flash of lightning, and the beast caught +it full in the face. The slender hand of the little player was poised +above the strings for a single vibrating moment, during which she +stood in a listening attitude. Then, with the sweep of three slender +fingers, the lion's scream cut the air like a two-edged sword. + +Death came on rapidly in deep, resounding roars, and the misery of the +cringing, suffering brute was unfolded--told in heart-rending +intonations, until at last he gave up his breath in one +terror-stricken cry. + +Jinnie dropped her hands suddenly. "He's dead," she said tremulously. +"Poor, poor lion!" + +She turned tear-wet eyes to Theodore King. + +"Shall I play any more?" she asked, shyly. + +The man shook his head, not permitting himself to speak. + +"Miss Grandoken has given us a wonderful entertainment," said he to +his friends; then turning to her, he held out his hand, "I want to +thank you, Miss Grandoken." + +Many people crowded around her, asking where and how she had learned +such music. + +Molly the Merry, the mystified expression still on her face, drew +near. + +Again Jinnie smiled at her, hoping the lovely lips would acknowledge +their former acquaintanceship. But as another person, a man, stepped +between her and the woman, Jinnie glanced up at him. He was very +handsome, but involuntarily the girl shuddered. There was something in +the curling of his lips that was cruel, and the whiteness of his teeth +accentuated the impression. His eyes filled her with dread. + +"Where did you learn that wonderful music?" he smiled.... "I mean the +music itself." + +"Out of my heart," she said simply. "I couldn't get it anywhere +else." + +"She's very delightful!" said the stranger, turning to Theodore. "I've +forgotten her name?" + +He was so near her that Jinnie shrank back, and the master of the +house noted her embarrassment. + +"Her name is Grandoken, Miss Grandoken.... Come," he said, holding out +his hand to Jinnie, and as she placed her fingers in his, he led her +away. + +A large car was waiting at the front door, and he held her hand in his +for a few seconds. The touch of her fingers thrilled him through and +through. He noticed her head just reached his shoulder and a conscious +desire to draw her to him for one blessed moment surged insistent +within him. He dropped her hand suddenly. + +"I wish now," he said, smiling, "I had sent for you to come here +before. It was such a treat!" + +Jinnie shrank away as he offered her a roll of bills. An unutterable +shyness crept over her. + +"I don't want it," she said, gulping hard. "I'd love to fiddle for you +all day long." + +"But you must take it," insisted King. "Now then, I want to know where +you live. I'm coming to see your uncle very, very soon." + +Lafe and his wife were waiting for the girl, and the cobbler noticed +Peggy's eyes were misty as Jinnie gave her the money. Over and over +she told them all about it. + +"And he's coming to see you, Lafe," she cried with a tremulous laugh. +"Mr. King says some day I'll be a great player. Will I, Lafe? Will I, +Peggy?" + +"You may," admitted Peggy, "but don't get a swelled head, 'cause you +couldn't stop fiddlin' any more'n a bird could stop singin'.... Go to +bed now, this minute." + +And as Jinnie slept her happy sleep in Paradise Road, another woman +was walking to and fro with a tall man under the trees at Theodore +King's home. + +"I thought I'd scream with laughter when she came in," said Molly the +Merry. "If it hadn't been for Theo's warning, I'm sure most of us +would.... Did you ever see such a ridiculous dress, Jordan?" + +The man was quiet for a meditative moment. "I forgot about the dress +when she began to play," he mused. "The sight of her face would drive +all thoughts of incongruity out of a man's mind." + +"Yes, she's very pretty," admitted Molly, reluctantly. "And Jordan, do +you know there's something strangely familiar about her face?... I +can't tell where I've seen her." + +"Never mind. The important thing to me is I must have money. Can't +keep up appearances on air." + +"You know I'll always help you when I can, Jordan." + +"Yes, I know it, and I'll not let you forget it either." + +The woman gave him a puzzled look and the man caught her meaning. + +"You're wondering why I don't open offices here, aren't you? Well, a +person can't do two things at once, and I've been pretty busy tracing +Virginia Singleton. And when I find her, you know very well I will +return every penny I've borrowed." + +And later, when Molly went to her room, she walked up and down +thoughtfully, trying to bring to her mind the familiar violet eyes and +the mass of purple black curls which were the crowning glory of Jinnie +Grandoken. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE COBBLER'S SECRET + + +One Sunday morning, Jinnie sat with Lafe in the shop. In hours like +these they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The quietude of these +precious Sabbath moments made the week, with its arduous tasks, +bearable to the sensitive girl. + +For several days past Jinnie had noticed Lafe had something on his +mind, but she always allowed him to tell her everything in his own +good time. Now she felt the time had come. His gray face, worn with +suffering, was shining with a heavenly light as he read aloud from a +little Bible in his hand. To-day he had chosen the story of Abraham +and Sarah. When he came to the part where Abraham said: + +"Lord, if now I have found favor in Thy sight, pass not away, I pray +Thee, from Thy servant," he pronounced the last word with sobbing +breath. One quick glance was enough for Jinnie's comprehension. + +She leaned forward breathlessly. + +"What is it, Lafe?... Something great?" + +"Yes, something great, lassie, and in God's name most wonderful." + +Before Jinnie's world of imagery passed all the good she had desired +for Lafe. His softly spoken, "In God's name most wonderful," thrilled +her from head to foot. + +"And you've been keeping it from me, Lafe," she chided gently. +"Please, please, tell me." + +Lafe sat back in the wheel chair and closed his eyes. "Wait, child," +he breathed hesitatingly. "Wait a minute!" + +As Jinnie watched him, she tried to stifle the emotion tugging at her +heart--to keep back the tears that welled into her eyes. Perhaps what +he had to tell her _would_ make her cry. Jinnie hoped not, for she +disliked to do that. It was so childlike, so like Blind Bobbie, who +always had either a beatific smile on his pale lips, or a mist shining +in his rock-gray eyes. + +At length Lafe sighed a long, deep-drawn sigh, and smiled. + +"Jinnie," he began---- + +"Yes, Lafe." + +"I've been wonderin' if you remember the story of the little feller +God sent to Peg an' me--the one I told you would a been six years +old." + +"Yes, I remember, Lafe." + +"An' how good Peggy was----" + +"Oh, how good Peggy always is!" interjected Jinnie. + +"Yes," breathed Lafe, dreamily. "May God bless my woman in all her +trials!" + +Jinnie hitched her chair nearer his and slipped her arm about his neck +soothingly. + +"She doesn't have trials you don't share, Lafe," she declared. + +Lafe straightened up. + +"Yes, Peg has many, lassie, I can't help 'er with, an' she'll have a +many more. To get to tell you something, Jinnie, I asked Peg to take +Bobbie out with 'er. We can't turn the little feller from the club +room when he ain't out with Peg; can we, Jinnie?" + +"Of course not," agreed Jinnie, nodding. + +"So when Peg said she was goin' out," proceeded Lafe, gravely, "I +says, thinkin' of the things I wanted to say to you, I said to Peggy, +'Take the little blind chap along with you, Peggy dear,' an' without a +word she put the youngster into his clothes an' away they went." + +Jinnie's curiosity was growing by the minute. + +"And you're going to tell me now, Lafe?" + +"An' now I'm goin' to tell you, Jinnie." + +But he didn't tell her just then. Instead he sat looking at her with +luminous eyes, and the expression in them--that heavenly +expression--compelled Jinnie to kneel beside him, and for a little +while they sat in silence. + +"Dear child," Lafe murmured, dropping a tender hand on her shining +head, "dear, dear girl!" + +"It must be a joyful thing, Lafe, for your face shines as bright as +Bobbie's stars." + +"I'm blessed happy to-day!" he sighed, with twitching lips. + +Jinnie took his hand in hers and smoothed it fondly. + +"What is it, Lafe, dear?" she asked. + +"Do you want to kneel while I tell you?" queried the cobbler. + +"Yes, right here." + +"Then look right at me, Jinnie lass!" + +Jinnie _was_ looking at him with her whole soul in her eyes. + +"I'm looking at you, Lafe," she said. + +"An' don't take your eyes from me; will you?" + +"Sure not!" + +It must be a great surprise for Lafe to act like this, thought the +girl. + +"Lassie," commenced Lafe, "I want you to be awful good to Peggy.... +It's about her I'm goin' to speak." + +Jinnie sank back on the tips of her toes. + +"What about Peg? There isn't----" + +"Dear Peggy," interrupted Lafe softly, his voice quick with tears, +"dear, precious Peggy!" Then as he bent over Jinnie and Jinnie bent +nearer him, Lafe placed his lips to her ear and whispered something. + +She struggled to her feet, strange and unknown emotions rising in her +eyes. + +"Lafe!" she cried. "Lafe dear!" + +"Yes," nodded the cobbler. "Yes, if you want to know the truth, the +good God's goin' to send me an' Peg another little Jew baby." + +Jinnie sat down in her chair quite dazed. Lafe's secret was much +greater than she had expected! Much! + +"Tell me about it," she pleaded. + +Keen anxiety erased the cobbler's smiling expression. + +"Poor Peggy!" he groaned again. "She can't see where the bread's +comin' from to feed another mouth, but as I says, 'Peggy, you said the +same thing when Jinnie came, an' the blind child, an' this little +one's straight from God's own tender breast.'" + +"That's so, Lafe," accorded Jinnie, "and, Oh, dearie, I'll work so +hard, so awful hard to get in more wood, and tell me, tell me when, +Lafe; when is he coming to us, the Jew baby?" + +Lafe smiled at her eagerness. + +"You feel the same way as I do, honey," he observed. "The very same +way!... Why, girlie, when Peg first told me I thought I'd get up and +fly!" + +"I should think so, but--but--I want to know how soon, Lafe, dear." + +"Oh, it's a long time, a whole lot of weeks!" + +"I wish it was to-morrow," lamented Jinnie, disappointedly. "I wonder +if Peg'll let me hug and kiss him." + +"Sure," promised Lafe, and they lapsed into silence. + +At length, Jinnie stole to the kitchen. She returned with her violin +box and Milly Ann in her arms. + +"Hold the kitty, darling," she said softly, placing the cat on his +lap. "She'll be happy, too. Milly Ann loves us all, Milly Ann does." + +Then she took out the fiddle and thrummed the strings. + +"I'm going to play for you," she resumed, "while you think about Peggy +and the--and--the baby." + +The cobbler nodded his head, and wheeled himself a bit nearer the +window, from where he could see the hill rise upward to the blue, +making a skyline of exquisite beauty. + +Jinnie began to play. What tones she drew from that small brown +fiddle! The rapture depicted in her face was but a reflection of the +cobbler's. And as he meditated and listened, Lafe felt that each tone +of Jinnie's fiddle had a soul of its own--that the instrument was +peopled with angel voices--voices that soothed him when he suffered +beyond description--voices that now expressed in rhythmical harmony +the peace within him. Jinnie was able to put an estimate on his moods, +and knew just what comfort he needed most. Until that moment the +cobbler's wife had seemed outside the charm of the beloved home +circle. But to-day, ah, to-day!--Jinnie's bow raced over the strings +like a mad thing. To-day Peggy Grandoken became in the girl's eyes a +glorified woman, a woman set apart by God Himself to bring to the home +a new baby. + +Jinnie played and played and played, and Theodore in spirit-fancy +stood beside her. Lafe thought and thought and thought, while Peggy +walked through his day dreams like some radiant being. + +"A baby----my baby, in the house," sang the cobbler's heart. + +"A baby, our baby, in the house," poured from Jinnie's soul, and +"Baby, little baby," sprang from the fiddle over and over, as golden +flashes of the sun warms the earth. Truly was Lafe being revivified; +truly was Jinnie! Theodore King! How infinitely close he seemed to +her! How the memory of his smile cheered and strengthened her! + +From the tip of the fiddle tucked under a rounded chin to the line of +purple-black hair, the blood rushed in riotous confusion over the +fiddler's lovely face. What was it in Lafe's story that had brought +Theodore King so near? + +Jinnie couldn't have told, but she was sure the fiddle knew. It was +intoning to Lafe--to her--the language of the birds and the mystery of +the flower blossoms, the invisible riddles of Heaven and earth, of all +the concealed secrets beyond the blue of the sky; all the panorama of +Nature strung out in a wild, sweet forest song. Jinnie had backed +against the wall as she played, and when out of her soul came the +twitter of the morning birds, the babbling of the brook on its way to +the sea, the scream of the owl in a high woodland tree, Lafe turned to +watch her, and from that moment until she dropped exhausted into a +chair, he did not take his eyes from her. + +"Jinnie!" he gasped, as he thrust forth his hand and took hers. +"You've made me happier to-day'n I've been in many a week. Peg'll be +all right.... Everybody'll be all right.... God bless us!" + +Jinnie sat up with bright, inquiring eyes. + +"Did you tell Peg I was to know about----" + +"About our baby?" intervened Lafe tenderly. + +He dwelt lovingly on those precious words. + +"Yes, about your baby," repeated Jinnie. + +"Yes, I told 'er, dear. I said you'd want to be happy too." + +"I'm so glad," sighed Jinnie, reverently. "Look!... Peg's coming +now!" + +They both watched Mrs. Grandoken as she stolidly crossed the tracks, +leading Bobbie by the hand. + +And later Jinnie hovered over Peggy in the kitchen. The woman had +taken on such a new dignity. She must be treated with the greatest and +most extra care. If Jinnie had done what she craved, she'd have +bounded to Peg and kissed her heartily. Of course that wouldn't do, +but talk to her she must, + +"Peggy," she said softly, tears lurking in her eyes. + +Peg looked at her without moving an eyelash. Jinnie wished she would +say something; her task would be so much easier. + +"Peggy," she begged again. + +"Huh?" + +"Lafe told me, dear," and then she did something she hadn't done with +Lafe; she began to cry, just why, Jinnie didn't know; Peg looked so +sad, so distant, and so ill. + +It was probably Jinnie's tears that softened Peg, for she put her hand +on the girl's shoulders and stood silent. After the first flood of +tears Jinnie ventured: + +"I'm awful happy, Peggy dear, and I want you to know I'm going to work +harder'n I even did for Blind Bobbie.... I will, Peg, I promise I +will.... Kiss me, Oh, kiss me, dear!" + +Peggy bent over and kissed the upturned, tearful face solemnly. Then +she turned her back, beginning to work vigorously, and Jinnie returned +to the shop with the kiss warm on her cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE COMING OF THE ANGELS + + +"You'd better make it a special prayer, Lafe," said Jinnie, a little +pucker between her eyes. "Every day I'm more'n more afraid of +Maudlin." + +"I will, honey, an' just pop into Bates' cottage an' tell Maudlin's pa +to run in the shop.... Go long, lass, nobody'll hurt you." + +After leaving Lafe's message at the Bates' cottage, Jinnie stepped +from the tracks to the marshes with a joyful heart. Of course nothing +could harm her! Lafe's faith, mingled with her own, would save her +from every evil in the world. + +When Bates opened the shop door, the cobbler looked up gravely. He +nodded his head to Jasper's, "Howdy do, Grandoken?" + +"Sit down," said Lafe. + +"Jinnie says you wanted me." + +"Yes, a few minutes' chat; that's all!" + +"Spit it out," said Bates. + +Lafe put down his hammer with slow importance. + +"It's this way, Jasper. Maudlin's----" + +"What's Maudie done now?" demanded Bates, lighting his pipe. + +"He's been botherin' my girl, that's what," responded Lafe. + +"Jinnie?" + +"Sure. She's all the girl I got.... Maudlin's got to stop it, Bates." + +A cruel expression flitted over Jasper's face. + +"I ain't nothin' to do with Maudlin's love affairs," said he. "Jinnie +could do worse'n get him, I'm a guessin'! Maudie adds up pretty good, +Maudie does!" + +Lafe shook his head with a grim serenity that became the strained +white face. + +"His addin' up ain't nothin' to his credit, Jasper," he protested. +"He's as crooked as a ram's horn an' you know it. If you don't, take +my word for it! There ain't nothin' doin' for him far's Jinnie's +concerned!... I sent for you to bargain with you." Jasper pricked up +his ears. The word "bargain" always attracted him. + +"Well?" he questioned. + +"You keep your boy from my girl and I'll do all your family cobblin' +for nothin' till Jinnie's a woman." + +Bates leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. + +"It's a bargain, all right. Them kids of mine do wear out the soles of +their shoes some. But, Lafe, I can't tag Maudlin around all day." + +Lafe took up his hammer. + +"Lick him if he won't mind you, Bates. He's got to let my girl be, and +that's all there is to it." + +Saying this, he started to work, giving the shortwood gatherer his +dismissal. Bates left his chair thoughtfully. + +"I'll talk to Maudie," said he, "but he's an onery kid; has been ever +since his mother died. He don't git along with his stepma very well, +and she's got such a lot of little kids of 'er own she ain't time to +train no hulk of a boy like Maudlin." + +Pausing a moment, he went on, "Maudlin's been madder'n hell because +that duffer King's been haulin' Jinnie's wood. He says----" + +"It ain't any of Maudlin's business who helps Jinnie," interrupted +Lafe. "If you got any shoes needin' fixin', tote 'em over, Jasper." + +Bates left the shop and Lafe fell to work vigorously. + + * * * * * + +Maudlin Bates stood at the path leading to the marshes. He was waiting +for Jinnie to appear with her load of shortwood. To the young wood +gatherer, a woman was created for man's special benefit, and a long +time ago he had made up his mind that Jinnie should be his woman. + +He was leaning against a tree when the girl came in sight, with her +wood-strap on her shoulders. She paid no attention to him, and was +about to turn into Paradise Road when the man stepped in front of +her. + +"Wait a minute, Jinnie," he wheedled. + +Jinnie threw him a disdainful glance. + +"I can't wait. I'm in a hurry," she replied, and she hoped the fellow +would go on before the car arrived. + +Young Bates' face was crossed by an obstinate expression. + +"I'm goin' to find out," he said, gruffly, "why you're ridin' in rich +folks' motor cars." + +"Isn't anything to you," snapped Jinnie. + +The wood gatherer came so close that he forced her back a step on the +marsh path. Her disdainful eyes had drawn him to her, for, like all +men, he could be drawn by the woman who scorned him, and mesmerized by +the sheer repulse. By great effort, Jinnie had escaped from Maudlin's +insults for many months, but he had never been quite so aggressive as +this! Now she could see the dark blood in his passionate face mount +even to the whites of his eyes, those eyes which coveted the youngness +of her body, the vitality of her girl life, and all the good within +her. + +"Get out of my way!" she said sharply. "You let me alone. I've got a +right to get my wood hauled if I can." + +"Well, you don't do it any more," said Maudlin. "If you're too lazy to +carry your own wood, I'll help you myself.... You can't go no more to +King's in _his_ car." + +Jinnie turned a pair of glinting blue eyes upon him. + +"Who said I couldn't?" she demanded. "Uncle Lafe lets me." + +"Your Uncle Lafe said you could marry me," said Maudlin in slow, +drawling tones. + +Jinnie's blood boiled up behind her ears. She was eyeing him in +bewilderment. Maudlin's words made her more angry than she'd ever been +in her life. + +"You lie, you damn fool!" she cried, and then caught her breath in +consternation. It was the first oath that had escaped her lips in many +a long day, and she felt truly sorry for it. She would tell Lafe of +the provocation that caused it and beg to be forgiven. She moved back +a step as Maudlin pinched her. + +"I don't lie," he growled. "You think because you can scrape on a +fiddle you're better'n other folks. Pa an' me'll show you you ain't." + +"You and your pa don't know everything," answered Jinnie, wrathfully. + +"We know 'nough to see what King's doin' all right." + +He made a dive at the girl and laid a rough hand on the shortwood +strap. + +"Here! Gimme that wood if you're too lazy to carry it." + +Jinnie turned her eyes up the road. It was time Bennett came. The +sound of his motor would be like sweet music in her ears. She jerked +the strap away from the man and turned furiously upon him. + +"Don't touch me again, Maudlin Bates.... I don't interfere with you. +I'll--I'll----" + +But Maudlin paid no heed to her insistence. He was dragging the strap +from her shoulders. + +Jinnie's face grew waxen white, but she held her own for a few +minutes. Maudlin was big in proportion to her slenderness, and in +another instant her shortwood lay on the ground, and she was standing +panting before him. + +"Now, then, just to show what kind of a feller I be," said he, "I'm +goin' to kiss you." + +Jinnie felt cold chills running up and down her back. + +"It's time you was kissed," went on Maudlin, "and after to-day I'm +goin' to be your man.... You can bet on that." + +He was slowly forcing her backward along the narrow path that led into +the marshes. Jinnie knew intuitively he wanted her to turn and run +into the underbrush that he might have her alone in the great waste +place. + +Like a mad creature, she fought every step of the way, Maudlin's anger +rising at each cry the girl emitted. + +"I'll tell my uncle," she screamed, with sobbing breath. + +"You won't want to tell 'im when I get done with you," muttered the +man. "Why don't you run? You c'n run, can't you?" + +Oh, if Bennett would only come! She was still near enough to Paradise +Road for him to hear her calling. + +Maudlin reached out his hand and caught the long curls between his +dirty fingers. + +"If you won't run," he said, "then, that for you!" and he gave a cruel +twist to the shining hair, pulling Jinnie almost off her feet. + +Then the ruffian turned, slowly dragging her foot by foot into the +marshland. She opened her lips, and gave one long scream; then another +and another before Maudlin pulled her to him and closed her mouth with +a large hand, and Jinnie grew faint with fright and terror. + +They were out of sight now of Paradise Road, still Jinnie struggled +and struggled, gripping with both hands at Bates' fingers jerking at +her curls. + +Suddenly Lafe's solemn words surged through her mind. "He has given +His angels charge over thee." Oh God! Dear God! What glorious, blessed +words! Lafe's angels, her angels--Jinnie's heart throbbed with faith. +Once Lafe had told her no one, no, not even Maudlin Bates, could keep +her own from her! Her honor and her very life were in the tender hands +of the cobbler's angels. Suddenly in fancy Jinnie saw the whole world +about teeming with bright ecstatic beings, and multitudes of them were +hurrying through the warm summer air to the Bellaire marshes. They +were coming--coming to help her, to save her from a fate worse than +death! Her mind reeled under the terrible pain Maudlin was inflicting +upon her, and she closed her eyes in agony. With one mighty effort, +she dragged her face from the brown, hard hand and screamed at the top +of her lungs. + + * * * * * + +Theodore King swung his car around into Paradise Road with busy +thoughts. He had decided to go himself that morning to bring the +little fiddler back to his home with the shortwood. He had a plan for +Jinnie. + +Past the cobbler's shop sped the big motor, and as it drew up to the +marshes, he heard a blood-curdling cry from the depths of the +underbrush. In another instant he was out on the ground, dashing along +the path. He saw Jinnie and Maudlin before either one of them knew he +was near. He saw the fellow pulling the black curls, and saw a hand +almost covering the fair young face. + +Then Jinnie saw him, and sent him one swift, terrified, appealing +glance. + +In the smallest fraction of a second Maudlin was sprawling on the +ground, and Theodore was soundly kicking him. Jinnie sank down on the +damp moss and began to cry weakly. Her face was scratched from the +man's fingers, her head aching from the strenuous pulling of her hair. +Then she covered her eyes with her hands. God _had_ sent an angel--she +was saved! When Mr. King touched her gently, she sat up, wiping away +little streams of blood running down her face and neck. + +"Oh, you came," she sobbed, raising her head, "and oh, I needed you +so!" + +Theodore lifted her to her feet. + +"I should say you did, you poor child! I should certainly think you +did." + +Then he turned to Maudlin Bates. + +"What, in God's name, were you trying to do?" + +Maudlin, raging with anger, scrambled from the ground. + +"Get out o' here," he hissed, "an' mind your own business." + +"When I keep a bully away from a nice little girl, I'm minding my +business all right.... What was he trying to do, Jinnie?" + +Maudlin walked backward until he was almost in the brush. + +"I'm goin' to marry her," he said, surlily. + +"He isn't," cried Jinnie. "Oh, don't believe him, Mr. King! He says +Uncle Lafe said he can marry me, but he can't." + +Once more Theodore turned on Maudlin, threateningly, his anger riding +down his gentleness to Jinnie. + +"Now get out of here," he exclaimed, "and don't ever let me hear of +your even speaking to this child again." + +The shortwood gatherer stood his ground until Theodore, with raised +fist, was almost upon him. + +"I said to get out!" thundered Mr. King. + +With a baffled cry, Bates turned, rushed back into the marsh, and for +several seconds they heard him beating down the brushwood as he ran. + +Theodore tenderly drew the girl into Paradise Road. + +"I wanted to see your uncle to-day," he explained, without waiting for +the question which he read in Jinnie's eyes, "so I came over myself +instead of sending Bennett.... There, child! Don't tremble so! Never +mind the wood." + +Jinnie hung back. + +"I've got to sell it to you this afternoon," she murmured brokenly. +"Peg's got to have the money." + +"We've enough at home until to-morrow.... Wait until to-morrow." + +Jinnie looked longingly at the wood. + +"Somebody'll take it," she objected, "and it's awful hard to gather." + +A grip of pain stabbed Theodore's heart. This slender, beautiful girl, +rosy with health and genius, should gather wood no more for any one in +the world.... To soothe her, he said: + +"I'll come by and pick it up on my way back.... Come along." + +He lifted her into the car, and they moved slowly through Paradise +Road, and drew up before the cobbler's shop. + +Lafe put down his hammer as they entered, and bade King take a chair. +Jinnie sat weakly on the bench beside Mr. Grandoken. He took her hand, +and the loving pressure brought forth a storm of outraged tears. + +"'Twas Maudlin, Lafe," she wept. + +Then her arms stole around the cobbler. "The angels sent Mr. King!... +Lafe, Lafe, save me from Maudlin! He--he----" + +Theodore King rose to his feet, his face paling. Lafe, smoothing +Jinnie's head now buried in his breast, lifted misty eyes to the young +man. + +"My poor baby! My poor little girl!" he stammered. "She has much to +stand, sir." + +The other man took several nervous turns around the shop. Presently he +paused near the cobbler and coughed in embarrassment. + +"I'm interested in doing something for your niece, Mr. Grandoken," +said he lamely. + +On hearing this, Jinnie lifted her head, and Lafe bowed. + +"Thank you, sir," said he. + +"I don't approve of her going into the marshes alone to gather wood," +continued Mr. King. "She's too young, too----" + +"I don't uther, sir," interrupted Lafe sadly, "but we've got to +live." + +Not heeding the cobbler's explanation, Theodore proceeded +deliberately. + +"She plays too well on the violin not to have all the training that +can be given her. Now let me be of some service until she is +self-supporting." + +Again Lafe repeated, "Thank you, sir, but I don't think Jinnie could +accept money from any one." + +"I don't see why not! It's quite customary when a young person is +ambitious to receive----" + +"Is it, sir?" ejaculated Lafe. + +"Indeed yes, and I've been making inquiries, and I find there's a very +good teacher on the hill who'll give her the rudiments.... After that, +we'll see." + +Jinnie was breathing very fast. + +"Lessons cost lots of money," objected Lafe feebly, drawing the girl +closer. + +"I know that," interposed Mr. King, "but I want to pay for them. She +ought to take one every day, the teacher says, commencing to-morrow." + +Jinnie stood up. "I couldn't let you pay for 'em," she said quickly. +"I----" + +She sat down again at a motion from Theodore. + +"Please don't object until I have finished," he smiled at her. "It's +like this: If you study, you'll be able to earn a lot of money. Then +you can return every dollar to me." + +Suddenly it came to her mind to tell him she would have all the money +she needed when she should be eighteen. + +"I'll have----" she began, but Lafe, feeling what she was going to +say, stopped her. It wasn't time to confide in any one about the +danger hanging over her. He took the matter in his own hands with his +usual melancholy dignity. + +"Jinnie'll be glad to let you help her, sir, providin' you keep track +of the money you spend," he agreed. + +The girl could scarcely believe her ears. Suddenly her indignant sense +of Maudlin's abuse faded away, leaving her encouraged and warm with +ambition. + +Theodore took one more stride around the little room. + +"Now that's sensible, Mr. Grandoken," he said contentedly. "And before +I go, I want you to promise me your niece won't go into the marshes +even once more. I must have your word before I can be satisfied. As it +is now, she earns three dollars a week bringing me wood. That I must +add to the lesson money----" + +Lafe's dissenting gesture broke off Mr. King's statement, but he +resumed immediately. + +"If you're sensitive on that point, I'll add it in with the other +money. I think it wise to keep our arrangements to ourselves, though." +He stopped, his face changing. "And I--I would like to make you more +comfortable here." + +Lafe shook his head. + +"I couldn't take anything for me and Peggy," he announced decidedly, +"but Jinnie'll give back all you let her have some day." + +Then Theodore King went away reluctantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +MOLLY'S DISCOVERY + + +Peggy had given Jinnie a violin box, and as the girlwalked rapidly +homeward, she gazed at it with pride, and began to plan how the +woman's burdens could be lightened a little--how she could bring a +smile now and then to the sullen face. This had been discussed between +Lafe and herself many times, and they had rejoiced that in a few +months, when Jinnie was eighteen, Mrs. Grandoken's worries would be +lessened. + +She reached the bottom of the hill just as a car dashed around the +lower corner, a woman at the wheel. One glance at the occupant, and +Jinnie recognized Molly Merriweather. The woman smiled sweetly and +drove to the edge of the pavement. + +"Good afternoon," she greeted Jinnie. "Won't you take a little ride +with me? I'll drive you home afterwards." + +Jinnie's heart bounded. As yet Molly had not discovered her identity, +and the girl, in spite of Lafe's caution, wanted to know all that had +passed in Mottville after she left. She wanted to hear about her dead +father, of Matty, and the old home. She gave ready assent to Molly's +invitation by climbing into the door opened for her. + +"You don't have to go home right away, do you?" asked Miss +Merriweather pleasantly. + +"No, I suppose not," acceded Jinnie shyly. + +She connected Molly the Merry with all that was good. She remembered +the woman's kindly smiles so long ago in Mottville, and--that she was +a friend of Theodore King. She was startled, however, after they had +ridden in silence a while, when the woman pronounced his name. + +"Have you seen Mr. King lately?" + +Jinnie shook her head. + +"I guess it's three days," she answered, low-voiced. + +Three days! Molly racked her brain during the few seconds before she +spoke again to bring to mind when Theodore had been absent from home +out of business hours. + +"He's a very nice man," she remarked disinterestedly. + +Jinnie's gratitude burst forth in youthful impetuosity. + +"He's more'n nice,--he's the best man in the world." + +"Yes, he is," murmured Molly. + +"Theo--I mean Mr. King," stammered Jinnie. + +Molly turned so quickly to look at the girl's reddening face that the +car almost described a circle. + +"You call him by his first name, then?" she asked, with a sharp +backward turn of the wheel. + +"No," denied Jinnie, extremely confused. "Oh, no! Only--only----" + +"Only what?" + +"When I think of him, then I do. Theodore's such a pretty name, isn't +it?" + +Molly bit her lip. Here was the niece of a cobbler who dared to think +familiarly of a man in high social position. She had tried to make +herself believe Theo was simply philanthropic, but now the more +closely she examined the beautiful face of the girl, the more she +argued with herself, the greater grew her fear. + +"What does he call you?" Molly spoke amiably, as if discussing these +unimportant little matters for mere politeness' sake. + +"Mostly Jinnie," was the prompt reply. "I'm just Jinnie to every one +who loves me." + +She said this without thought of its import. Angrily Molly sent the +motor spinning along at a higher rate. She was growing to hate the +little person at her side. + +"Where are your own people?" she demanded, when they were on the road +leading to the country. + +Jinnie glanced up. "Dead!" she answered. + +"And the cobbler, Mr. Grandoken, is he your father's or mother's +brother?" + +Jinnie pondered a moment, undecided how to answer. + +"Why, you see it's like this----" + +Molly lessened the speed. Turning squarely around, she looked keenly +at the scarlet, lovely face. + +"Why are you blushing?" she queried. + +Then like a flash she remembered. What a silly fool she had been! +Jordan Morse would give his eyes almost to locate this girl. + +"I remember now who you are," she said, taking a long breath. "You're +Virginia Singleton." + +Jinnie touched her arm appealingly. + +"You won't tell anybody, will you, please? Please don't.... There's a +reason why." + +"Tell me the reason." + +"I couldn't now, not now. But I have to live with Lafe Grandoken quite +a long time yet." + +"You ran away from your home?" + +"Yes." + +"Your father died the same night you came away." + +"Yes, and--please, what happened after I left?" + +"Oh, he was buried, and the house is empty." + +Molly forebore to mention Jordan Morse, and Jinnie's tongue refused to +utter the terrifying name. + +Presently the girl, with tears in her eyes, said softly: + +"And Matty, old Matty?" + +"Who's Matty?" interjected Molly. + +"The black woman who took care of me. She lived with me for ever so +long." + +Molly didn't reply for some time. Then: + +"I think she died; at least I heard she did." + +A cold shudder ran over Jinnie's body. Matty then had gone to join +those who, when they were called, had no choice but to answer. She +leaned against the soft cushions moodily. She was harking back to +other days, and Molly permitted her to remain silent for some time. + +"You must have people of your own you could live with," she resumed +presently. "It's wrong for a girl with your money----" + +Jinnie's lovely mouth set at the corners. + +"I wouldn't leave Lafe and Peggy for anybody in the world, not if I +had relations, but I haven't." + +"I thought--I thought," began Molly, pretending to bring to mind +something she'd forgotten. "You have an uncle," she burst forth. + +Jinnie grew cold from head to foot. Her father's words, "He won't find +in you much of an obstacle," came to her distinctly. + +"Does your uncle know where you are?" + +This question brought the girl to the present. + +"No. I don't want him to know, either. Not till--not till I'm +eighteen." + +"Why?" + +Molly's tone was so cold and unsympathetic Jinnie regretted she had +accepted her invitation to ride. But she need not be afraid; Lafe +would keep her safe from all harm. Had she not tried out his faith and +the angels' care with Maudlin Bates? However, she felt she owed some +explanation to the woman at her side. + +"My uncle doesn't like me," she stammered, calming her fear. "And Lafe +loves me, Lafe does." + +"How do you know your uncle doesn't love you?" + +Thinking of Lafe's often repeated caution not to divulge her father's +disclosure of Morse's perfidy, Jinnie remained quiet. + +The birds above their heads kept up a shrill chatter. On ordinary +occasions Jinnie would have listened to mark down in her memory a few +notes to draw from her fiddle, but at this moment she was too busy +looking for a proper explanation. Glancing sidelong at the woman's +face and noting the expression upon it, she grew cold and drew into +the corner. She would not dare---- + +"I almost think it's my duty to write your uncle," said Molly +deliberately. + +Jinnie gasped. She straightened and put forth an impetuous hand. + +"Please don't! I beg you not to. Some day, mebbe, some day----" + +"In the meantime you're living with people who can't take care of +you." + +"Oh, but they do, and Mr. King's helping me," faltered Jinnie. "Why, +he'd do anything for me he could. He loves my fiddle----" + +"Does he love you?" asked Molly, her heart beating swiftly. + +"I don't know, but he's very good to me." + +Molly with one hand carefully brushed a dead leaf from her skirt. + +"Do you love him?" she asked, forcing casuality into her tone. + +Did she love Theodore King? The question was flung at Jinnie so +suddenly that the truth burst from her lips. + +"Oh, yes, I love him very, very much----" + +The machine started forward with a tremendous jerk. Jinnie gave a +frightened little cry, but the woman did not heed her. The motor sped +along at a terrific rate, and there just ahead Jinnie spied a lean +barn-cat, crossing the road. She screamed again in terror. Still Molly +sped on, driving the car straight over the thin, gaunt animal. +Jinnie's heart leapt into her mouth. All her great love for living +things rose in stout appeal against this ruthless deed. She lifted her +slight body and sprang up and out, striking the hard ground with a +sickening thud. She sat up, shaking from head to foot. A short +distance ahead Molly Merriweather was turning her machine. Jinnie +crawled to the middle of the road, still dizzy from her fall. There, +struggling before her, was the object for which she had jumped. The +cat was writhing in distracted misery, and Jinnie picked him up in her +arms. She was sitting on the ground when Molly, very pale, rolled +back. + +"You little fool! You silly little fool!" she exclaimed, leaping out. +"You might have been killed doing such a thing." + +"You ran over the kitty," wept Jinnie, bowing her head. + +"And what if I did? It's only a cat. Throw it down and come with me +immediately." + +Jinnie wasn't used to such sentiments. She got to her feet, a queer, +rebellious feeling buzzing through her brain. + +"I'm going to walk home," she said brokenly, "and take the kitty with +me." + +Saying this, she took off her jacket and wrapped it about the cat. +Molly glared at her furiously. + +"You're the strangest little dunce I ever saw," she cried. "If you're +determined to take the little beast, get in." + +Molly was sorry afterward she had not let Jinnie have her way, for +they had driven homeward but a little distance when she saw +Theodore's car coming toward them. He himself was at the wheel, and +waved good-naturedly. Molly reluctantly stopped her machine. The man +looked in astonishment from the girl to the woman. He noticed Jinnie's +white face and the long blue mark running from her forehead to her +chin. Molly, too, wore an expression which changed her materially. He +stepped to the ground and leaned over the edge of their car. + +"Something happened?" he questioned, eyeing first one, then the +other. + +Molly looked down upon the girl, who was staring at Mr. King. + +"I--I----" began Jinnie. + +Molly made a short explanation. + +"She jumped out of the car," she said. "I was just telling her she +might have been killed." + +"Jumped out of the car?" repeated Theodore, aghast. + +"And we were going at a terrible rate," Molly went on. + +Her voice was toned with accusation, and Jinnie saw a reprimanding +expression spread over the man's face. She didn't want him to think +ill of her, yet she was not sorry she had jumped. He was kind and +good; he would pity the hurt thing throbbing against her breast. + +"We--we--ran over a cat----" she said wretchedly. + +"A barn-cat," cut in Molly. + +"And he was awfully hurt," interpolated Jinnie. "I couldn't leave him +in the road. I had to get him, didn't I?" + +Theodore King made a movement of surprise. + +"Did you notice it in the road?" he asked Miss Merriweather. + +The woman was thoroughly angry, so angry she could not guard her +tongue. + +"Of course I saw him," she replied haughtily, "but I wouldn't stop for +an old cat; I can tell you that much." + +"Miss Grandoken looks ill," Theodore answered slowly, "and as I am +going her way, I think she'd better come with me." + +Molly was about to protest when two strong arms were thrust forth, and +Jinnie with the cat was lifted out. Before the girl fully realized +what had happened, she was sitting beside her friend, driving +homeward. She could hear through her aching brain the chug-chug of +Molly's motor following. It was not until they turned into Paradise +Road that Mr. King spoke to her. Then he said gently: + +"It was a dreadful risk you took, child." + +"I didn't think about that," murmured Jinnie, closing her eyes. + +"No, I suppose not. Your heart's too tender to let anything be +abused.... Is the cat dead?" + +Jinnie pulled aside her jacket. + +"No, but he's breathing awful hard. It hurts him to try to live. I +want to get home quick so Peggy can do something for him." + +"I'll hurry, then," replied Mr. King, and when he saw Lafe's face in +the window, he again addressed her: + +"You'd better try to smile a little, Miss Jinnie, or your uncle'll be +frightened." + +Jinnie roused herself, but she was so weak when she tried to walk that +Theodore picked her up in his arms and carried her into the shop. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +NOBODY'S CAT + + +Lafe uttered a quick little prayer as the door opened. His glance +through the window had shown him Jinnie's pale face and her dark head +drooping against Mr. King's shoulder. Theodore smiled as he entered, +which instantly eased the fear in the cobbler's heart and he waited +for the other man to speak. + +"Jinnie had a fall," explained Mr. King, "so I drove her home." + +He placed the girl in a chair. She was still holding the mangled cat +in her arms. + +"Is she much hurt?" questioned Lafe anxiously. + +"No, Lafe, I'm not hurt a bit. Miss Merriweather took me for a little +ride. I jumped out to get this kitty because she ran over 'im." + +She displayed the quivering grey tiger cat. + +"Jumped out of a fast-goin' car, honey!" chided Lafe. "That was some +dangerous." + +Jinnie's eyes were veiled with wonder. + +"But I couldn't let him stay and get run over again, could I, Lafe?" + +"No, darlin', of course you couldn't.... Are you pretty well broke +up?" + +Mr. King explained the accident as best he could, and after he +departed Mrs. Grandoken came in with Bobbie clinging to her skirts. +Then the story was repeated. + +"Can't we do something for him, Peg?" pleaded Jinnie. + +Peg knelt down and examined the animal as it lay on the floor. She +would not have admitted for anything that she was disturbed because of +Jinnie's fall. She only said: + +"'Twasn't your fault, miss, that you ain't almost dead yourself.... +I'll get a dish with some water.... You need it as much as the cat." + +It was Bobbie who brought from Peggy a fierce ejaculation. He was +standing in the middle of the floor with fluttering hands, a woebegone +expression on his upturned face. + +"My stars're goin' out," he whimpered. "I want to touch my Jinnie." + +"She ain't hurt much, kid," said Peg, hoarsely. "Don't be shakin' like +a leaf, Bobbie! You'd think the girl was dead." + +Jinnie called the boy to her. + +"I'm here, honey," she soothed him, "and I'm all right. I got a little +whack on the ground, that's all.... There, don't cry, dearie." + +Peg looked down on them frowningly. + +"You're both of you little fools," she muttered. "Get out of my way +till I go to the kitchen, or I'll kick you out." + +When Mrs. Grandoken brought the water, they worked over the cat for a +long time, and at length Peg carried the poor little mangled body to +the kitchen, Bobbie following her. + +Jinnie sat down beside the cobbler on the bench. + +"There's something I don't know, Jinnie," he said. + +Fully and freely she told him all--all that had happened that day. She +explained Molly's recognition of her and the terrors of the +afternoon's ride. + +"She hates barn-cats," went on the girl, "and, Lafe, when the wheels +gritted over him, I flew right out on the ground." + +Lafe's arms tightened about her. + +"You just couldn't help it," he murmured. "God bless my little girl!" + +"Then Mr. King took me with him," concluded Jinnie. + +Lafe had his own view of Molly the Merry, but he didn't tell the +faint, white girl at his side that he thought the woman was jealous of +her. + +As Jinnie again recounted nervously the conversation about her Uncle +Jordan, the cobbler said softly: + +"It's all in the hands of the angels, pet! No harm'll come to you +ever." + + * * * * * + +Jordan Morse answered Miss Merriweather's telephone call. + +"I want to talk with you," said she peremptorily. + +"I'll come right up," replied Morse. + +She stood on the porch with her hands tightly locked together when +Jordan dashed up the roadway. She walked slowly down the steps. + +"What's up?" demanded Morse. + +Molly glanced backward at the quiet home. Theodore's mother was taking +her afternoon siesta, and no one else was about. She slipped her hand +into Morse's arm and led him under the trees. + +"Let's go to the summer house," she urged. + +Once seated, Morse looked at her curiously. + +"You're ill," he said, noting her distorted face. + +"No, only furious.... I've made a discovery." + +"Anything of value?" + +"Yes, to you--and to me." + +Morse bent a keen glance upon her. + +"Well?" was all he said. + +"I know where your niece, Virginia Singleton, is." + +She said this deliberately, realizing the while the worth of her +words. + +Morse got to his feet unsteadily. + +"I don't believe it," he returned. + +"I knew you wouldn't, but I do just the same." + +"Where?" + +"In this town." + +"No!" + +"Yes." + +Morse dropped back on the seat once more. + +"For God's sake, don't play with me. Why don't you----" + +"I'm going to! Keep still, can't you?" + +"You're torturing me," muttered the man, mopping his brow. + +"She's--she's Jinnie Grandoken--the girl who played at Theo's party." + +"Good God!" and then through the silence came another muttered, "Great +merciful God!" + +Molly allowed him to regain his self-control. + +"I told you that night, Jordan, I thought I remembered her," she then +said. "To-day I found out it was she." + +"Tell me all you know," ordered Morse, with darkening brow. + +Molly openly admitted her jealousy of Jinnie. She had no shame +because, long before, she had told her husband of her absorbing +passion for Theodore King. + +"I discovered it purely by accident," she went on, relating the +story. + +Morse chewed the end of his cigar. + +"Now what're you going to do?" demanded Molly presently. + +Jordan threw away his cigar and thrust his hands deep into his +pockets, stretching out a pair of long legs. There he sat considering +the tips of his boots in silence. + +"I've got to think, and think quick," he broke out suddenly. "My God! +I might have known she didn't belong in that cobbler's shop.... I'll +go now.... Don't mention this to Theo." + +As he was leaving, he said with curling lip: + +"I guess now you know my prospects you won't be so stingy. I'll have +to have money to carry this through." + +"All right," said Molly. + +When she was alone, Molly's anger decreased. She had an ally now worth +having. She smiled delicately as she passed 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," assured 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 God?... 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. God'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 nobody'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 nobody'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 God and his Son, + Of Paradise, Heaven and Hell; + Of a Savior who came on earth for mankind, + And for His children all should be well. + + "Now I'd like to know if God didn't make me, + And cause me to live and all that? + I believe there's a place for nobody's child, + And also for nobody'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, +lass." + +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." + +"That's so," said Molly, meditatively, "but it seems horrible----" + +Morse interrupted her with a sarcastic laugh. + +"That's what Theodore would think, and more, too, if he thought any +one was going to harm a hair of the child's head." + +Molly flamed red. + +"To save her, he might even marry her," Morse went on relentlessly. + +Molly gestured negatively. + +"He wouldn't. He couldn't!" she cried stormily. She had never +permitted herself to face such a catastrophe save when she was angry. + +Jordan Morse contemplated his wife a short space of time. + +"I can't understand your falling in love with a man who hasn't +breathed a word of affection for you," he said tentatively. + +Molly showed him an angry face. + +"You're not a woman, so you can't judge," she replied. + +"Thank God for that!" retorted Morse. + +"We wouldn't have had any of this trouble," he continued, at length, +"if you'd let me know about the boy. There's no excuse for you, +absolutely none. You know very well I would have come back." + +All the softness in the woman turned to hardness. + +"How many times," she flamed, "must I tell you I was too angry to +write or beg you to come, Jordan?... I've told you over and over." + +"And with all you say, I can't understand it. Are you going to impart +your precious past to Theodore?" + +"No," replied Molly, setting her lips. + +Presently Morse laughed provokingly. + +"How you women do count your chickens before they're hatched! Where +did you get the idea Theodore was going to ask you to marry him?" + +"I'll make him," breathed Molly, with confidence. + +"Well, go ahead," bantered Morse. "All I ask for releasing you is that +you'll help me rid myself of my beautiful niece, Virginia, at the same +time ridding yourself, my lady, and give me my boy when we find him." + +His tones in the first part of the speech were mocking, but Molly +noted when he said "boy" his voice softened. She looked at him +wonderingly. What a strange mixture of good and evil he was! When he +got up to leave, she was not sorry. She watched him stride away with a +deep sigh of relief. + +She was still sitting in the summer house when Theodore King swung his +motor through the gate and drew up before the porch. He jumped out, +wiped his face, saw Molly, and smiled. + +"Well, it's cool here," he said, walking toward her. + +"Yes," said Molly. "Come and sit down a minute." + +Theodore looked doubtfully at the house. + +"I really ought to do some writing, but I'll sit a while if you like. +I passed Jordan on the way home." + +Molly nodded, and Theodore quizzed her with laughing eyes. + +"Isn't he coming pretty often?" he asked. "Jordan's got prospects, +Molly! If his niece isn't found, you know, he'll have a fortune.... +Better set your cap for him." + +Molly blushed under his words, trying not to show her resentment. Was +Theodore a perfect fool? Couldn't he see she desired no one but +himself, and him alone? + +"Jordan doesn't care for me that way," she observed with dignity, "and +I don't care for him." + +Theodore flicked an ash from his cigar. + +"I think you're mistaken, Molly--I mean as far as he is concerned." + +"I'm not! Of course, I'm not! Oh, Theodore, I've been wanting to ask +you something for a long time. I do want to go back home for a day.... +Would you take me?" + +Theodore eyed her through wreaths of blue smoke. + +"Well, I might," he hesitated, "but hadn't you better ask Jordan? I'm +afraid he wouldn't like me----" + +Molly got up so quickly that Theodore, surprised, got up too. + +"I don't want Jordan, and I do want you," she said emphatically. "Of +course if you don't care to go----" + +"On the contrary," interrupted Theodore, good-naturedly, "I would +really like it.... Yes, I'll go all right.... I have a reason for +going." + +Molly's whole demeanor changed. She gave a musical laugh. He could +have but one reason, and she felt she knew that reason! What a +handsome dear he was, and how she loved the whole bigness of him! + +As she turned to walk away, Theodore fell in at her side, suiting his +steps to hers. + +"Mind you, Molly, any day you say but Saturday." + +"Why not Saturday?" asked Molly, pouting. "I might want you then!" + +Unsuspecting, Mr. King explained. + +"The fact is, Saturday I've planned to go on the hill. You remember +Grandoken's niece? I want to find out how she's progressing in her +music." + +If Theodore had been watching Molly's face, he would have noted how +its expression changed darkly. But, humming a tune, he went into the +house unconcernedly, and Molly recognized the rhythm as one Jinnie had +played that night long ago with Peg Grandoken's lace curtains draped +about her. + +Jinnie's youth, her bright blue eyes, her wonderful talent, Molly +hated, and hated cordially. Then she decided Theodore should go with +her Saturday. + +That evening when Jordan Morse came in, Molly told him she would help +him in any scheme to get Jinnie away from Bellaire. + +"You're beginning to understand he likes her pretty much, eh?" asked +the man rudely. + +Molly wouldn't admit this, but she replied simply: + +"I don't want her around. That's all! As long as she's in Bellaire, +the Kings'll always have her here with her fiddle." + +"Some fiddle," monotoned Jordan. + +"It's the violin that attracts Theodore," hesitated Molly. + +"And her blue eyes," interrupted Jordan, smiling widely. + +"Her talent, you mean," corrected Molly. + +"And her curls," laughed Morse. "I swear if she wasn't a relation of +mine I'd marry the kid myself. She's a beauty!... She's got you +skinned to death." + +"You needn't be insulting, Jordan," admonished Molly, flushing. + +"It's the truth, though. That's where the rub comes. You can't wool +me, Molly. If she were hideous, you wouldn't worry at all.... Why, I +know seven or eight girls right here in Bellaire who'd give their eye +teeth and wear store ones to get Theodore to look at 'em crosseyed.... +Lord, what fools women are!" + +Molly left him angrily, and Morse, shrugging his shoulders, strolled +on through the trees. Not far from the house he met Theodore, and they +wandered on together, smoking in silence. Morse suddenly developed an +idea. Why shouldn't he sound King about Jinnie? Accordingly, he began +with: + +"That's a wonderful girl, Grandoken's niece." + +This topic was one Theodore loved to speak of, to dream so, so he said +impetuously: + +"She is indeed. I only wish I could get her away from Paradise Road." + +Morse turned curious eyes on his friend. + +"Why?" + +"Well, I don't think it's any place for an impressionable young girl +like her." + +"She's living with Jews, too, isn't she?" + +"Yes, but good people," Theodore replied. "I want her to go away to +school. I'd be willing to pay her expenses----" + +Morse flung around upon him. + +"Send her away to school? You?" + +"Yes. Why not? Wouldn't it be a good piece of charity work? She's the +most talented girl I ever saw." + +"And the prettiest," Jordan cut in. + +"By far the prettiest," answered King without hesitation. + +His voice was full of feeling, and Jordan Morse needed no more to tell +him plainly that Theodore loved Jinnie Grandoken. A sudden chill +clutched at his heart. If King ever took Jinnie under his protection, +his own plans would count for nothing. He went home that night +disgusted with himself for having stayed away from his home country so +long, angry that Molly had not told him about the baby, and more than +angry with Theodore King. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +WHEN THEODORE FORGOT + + +For the next few days Jordan Morse turned over in his mind numerous +plans to remove Jinnie from Grandoken's home, but none seemed +feasible. As long as Lafe knew his past and stood like a rock beside +the girl, as long as Theodore King was interested in her, he himself +was powerless to do anything. How to get both the cobbler and his +niece out of the way was a problem which continually worried him. + +He mentioned his anxiety to Molly, asking her if by any means she +could help him. + +"I did tell her I'd write to you," said Molly. + +Morse's face fell. + +"She's a stubborn little piece," he declared presently. "Theo's in +love with her all right." + +"You don't really mean that!" stammered Molly, her heart thumping. + +"Perhaps not very seriously, but such deep interest as his must come +from something more than just the girl's talent. He spoke about +sending her away to school." + +"He shan't," cried Molly, infuriated. + +Morse's rehearsal of Theodore's suggestion was like goads in her +soul. + +"If she'd go," went on the man, "nothing you or I could do would stop +him. The only way----" + +Molly whirled upon him abruptly. + +"I'll help you, Jordan, I will.... Anything, any way to keep him from +her." + +They were both startled and confused when Theodore came upon them +suddenly with his swinging stride, but before Morse went home, he +whispered to Molly: + +"I've thought of something--tell you to-morrow." + +That night Molly scarcely slept. The vision of a black-haired girl in +the arms of Theodore King haunted her through her restless dreams, and +the agony was so intense that before the dawn broke over the hill she +made up her mind to help her husband, even to the point of putting +Jinnie out of existence. + +That morning Morse approached her with this command: + +"You try to get Jinnie to go with you to Mottville. You wouldn't have +to stay but a day or so. There your responsibilities would end.... +I'll be there at the same time.... Will you do it, Molly?" + +"Yes," said Molly, and her heart began to sing and her eyes to shine. +Her manner to Jordan as he left was more cordial than since his return +from Europe. + +At noon time, when Theodore King saw her walking, sweetly cool, under +the trees, he joined her. Molly had donned the dress he had +complimented most, and as he approached her, she lifted a shy gaze to +his. + +"You couldn't take me to-morrow, you're sure?" she begged, her voice +low, deep and appealingly resonant. + +Theodore hesitated. Being naturally chivalrous and kindly, he disliked +to refuse, but he had already sent a note to Jinnie to meet him at the +master's Saturday, and it went against his inclination to break that +appointment. + +"I don't see how I can," he replied thoughtfully, "but choose any day +next week, and we'll make a real picnic of it." + +"I'm so disappointed," Molly murmured sadly. "I wanted to go Saturday. +But of course----" + +"I'll see if I can arrange it," he assured her. "Possibly I might go +up to hear her play to-day.... I'll see.... Later I'll 'phone you." + +Leaving the house, he headed his car toward the lower end of the town. +He was glad of an excuse to go to Paradise Road. Lafe smiled through +the window at him, and he entered the shop at the cobbler's cordial, +"Come in!" + +"I suppose you want Jinnie, eh?" asked Lafe. + +"Yes. I'll detain her only a moment." + +Bobbie got up from the floor where he was playing soldiers with tacks +and nails. + +"Boy'll call Jinnie," said he, moving forward. + +The two men watched the slender blind child feel his way to the door. + +"Bobbie loves to take a part in things," explained Lafe. "Poor little +fellow!" + +"Is he hopelessly blind?" asked Theodore. + +"Yes, yes," and Lafe sighed. "I sent him once by Peg to ask a big eye +specialist. He's a good little shaver, but his heart's awful weak. You +wouldn't think he's almost eleven, would you?" + +Theodore shook his head, shocked. + +"It isn't possible!" he exclaimed. + +"He ain't growed much since he come here over two years ago. Jinnie +can carry him in one arm." + +"Poor child!" said Theodore sympathetically. + +Just then Jinnie came into the room shyly. Bobbie had excitedly +whispered to her that "the beautiful big man with the nice hands" +wanted her. She hesitated at the sight of Mr. King, but advanced as +Lafe held out his hand to her. + +Before Theodore could explain, she had told him: + +"The master isn't giving me a lesson to-day, but he will to-morrow +because you're coming." + +With pride in her voice, she said it radiantly, the color mantling +high in her cheeks. Molly's importunate insistence escaped Theodore's +mind. When with Jinnie, ordinary matters generally did fade away. + +"I'm very glad," he replied. "I hope you've progressed a lot." + +"She has, sir, she sure has," Lafe put in. "You'll be surprised! How +long since you've heard her play?" + +"A long time," answered Theodore, and still forgetting Molly, he went +on, "I wonder if you'd like to come to the house to-morrow to dinner +and play for us. My mother was speaking about how much she'd enjoy it +only a short time ago." + +Jinnie's eyes sparkled. + +"I should love to come," she answered gladly. + +He rose to go, taking her hand. + +"Then I'll send the car for you," he promised her. + +He was sitting at his office desk when Molly the Merry once more came +into his mind. An ejaculation escaped his lips, and he made a wry +face. Then, in comparison, Jinnie, with all her sparkling youth, rose +triumphant before him. He loved the child, for a child she still +seemed to him. To tell her now of his affection might harm her work. +He would wait! She was so young, so very young. + +For a long time he sat thinking and dreaming of the future, and into +the quiet of his office he brought, in brilliant vision, a radiant, +raven-haired woman--his ideal--his Jinnie. Suddenly again he +remembered his promise to Molly and slowly took down the telephone. +Then deliberately he replaced it. It would be easier to explain the +circumstances face to face with her, and no doubt entered his mind but +that the woman would be satisfied and very glad that Jinnie was +coming with her violin to play for them. Molly wouldn't mind +postponing her trip for a few days. + +Molly was reclining as usual in the hammock with a book in her hand +when he ran up the steps. + +"Molly," he began, going to her quickly, "I want to confess." + +"Confess?" she repeated, sitting up. + +"Yes, it's this way: When I went out this morning I felt sure I could +arrange about to-morrow.... But what do you think?" + +Miss Merriweather put down the book, stood up, her hand over her +heart. + +"I can't guess," she breathed. + +"Well, I went to Grandoken's----" + +"You could have sent a note," Molly cut in. + +Theodore looked at her curiously. + +"I could, but I didn't. I wanted Jinnie to understand----" + +His voice vibrated deeply when he spoke that name, and the listener's +love-laden ears caught the change immediately. + +"Well?" she murmured in question. + +"When I got there and saw her, I forgot about Saturday. Before I had a +chance, she told me she wasn't going to the master's to-day. Then +without another thought----" + +"Well?" interviewed Molly with widening eyes. + +"Pardon me, Molly," Theodore said tactlessly, "for forgetting you--you +will, won't you? I asked her to play here to-morrow night." + +Molly felt the structure of her whole world tumbling down about her +ears. He had forgotten her for that girl, that jade in Paradise Road, +the girl who stood between her and all her hopes. She took one step +forward and forgot, her dignity, forgot everything but his stinging +insult. + +"How dared you?" she uttered hoarsely. Her voice grew thin as it +raised to the point of a question. + +"Dare!" echoed Theodore, his expression changing. + +Molly went nearer him with angry, sparkling eyes. + +"Yes, how dared you ask that girl to come here when I dislike her? You +know how I hate her----" + +Mr. King tossed his cigar into the grass, gravity settling on his +countenance. + +"I hadn't the slightest idea you disliked her," he said. + +Molly eagerly advanced into the space between them. + +"She is trying to gain some sort of influence over you, Theo, just the +same as she got over that Jewish cobbler." + +Theodore King gazed in amazement at the reddening, beautiful face. +Surely he had not heard aright. Had she really made vile charges +against the girl? To implicate Jinnie with a thought of conspiracy +brought hot blood about his temples. He wouldn't stand that even from +an old-time friend. Of course he liked Molly very much, yes, very much +indeed, but this new antagonistic spirit in her---- + +"What's the matter with you, Molly?" he demanded abruptly. "You +haven't any reason to speak of the child that way." + +"The child!" sneered Molly. "Why, she's a little river rat--a bold, +nasty----" + +Theodore King raised his great shoulders, throwing back his closely +cropped head. Then he sprang to refute the terrible aspersion against +the girl he loved. + +"Stop!" he commanded in a harsh voice, leaning over the panting woman. +"And now I'll ask you how _you_ dare?" he finished. + +Molly answered him bravely, catching her breath in a sob. + +"I dare because I'm a woman.... I dare because I know what she's +doing. If she hadn't played her cards well, you'd never've paid any +attention to her at all.... No one can make me believe you would have +been interested in a--in a----" + +The man literally whirled from the porch, bounded into the motor, +turned the wheel, and shot rapidly away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +MOLLY ASKS TO BE FORGIVEN + + +All the evening Molly waited in despair. She dared not appear at +dinner and arose the next morning after a sleepless night. For two or +three hours she hovered about the telephone, hoping for word from +Theodore. He would certainly 'phone her. He would tell her he was +sorry for the way he had left her, for the way he had spoken to her. +Even his mother noticed her pale face and extreme nervousness. + +"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. King, solicitously. + +"Nothing, nothing--much," answered Molly evasively. + +Mrs. King hesitated before she ventured, "I thought I heard you and +Theo talking excitedly last night. Molly, you musn't quarrel with +him.... You know the wish of my heart.... I need you, child, and so +does he." + +Miss Merriweather knelt beside the gentle woman. + +"He doesn't care for me, dear!" she whispered. + +For an instant she was impelled to speak of Jinnie, but realizing what +a tremendous influence Theodore had over his mother, she dared not. +Like her handsome son, Mrs. King worshipped genius, and Molly +reluctantly admitted to herself that the girl possessed it. + +"He's young yet," sighed the mother, "and he's always so sweet to you, +Molly. Some day he'll wake up.... There, there, dearie, don't cry!" + +"I'm so unhappy," sobbed Molly. + +Mrs. King smoothed the golden head tenderly. + +"Why, child, he can't help but love you," she insisted. "He knows how +much I depend on you.... I'd have had you with me long before if your +father hadn't needed you.... Shall I speak to Theodore?" + +"No, no----" gasped Molly, and she ran from the room. + +Under the tall trees she paced for many minutes. How could she wait +until dinner--until he came home? She felt her pride ebbing away as +she watched the sun cross the sky. The minutes seemed hours long. +Molly went swiftly into the house. First assuring herself no one was +within hearing distance, she paused before the telephone, longing, yet +scarcely daring to use it. Then she took off the receiver and called +Theodore's number. His voice, deep, low and thrilling, answered her. + +"It's I, Theo," she said faintly.... "Molly." + +"Yes," he answered, but that was all. + +He gave her no encouragement, no opening, but in desperation she +uttered, + +"Theodore, I'm sorry!... Oh, I'm so sorry!... Won't you forgive me?" + +There was silence on the wire for an appreciable length of time. + +"Theodore?" murmured Molly once more. + +"Yes." + +"I want you to forgive me.... I couldn't wait until you came home." + +She heard a slight cough, then came the reply. + +"I can't control your thoughts, Molly, but I dislike to have my +friends illy spoken of." + +"I know! I know it, Theodore! But please forgive me, won't you?" + +"Very well," answered Theodore, and he clicked off the 'phone. + +Molly dropped her face into her hands. + +"He hung the receiver up in my ear," she muttered. "How cruel, how +terrible of him!" + +It was a wan, beautiful face that turned up to Theodore King when he +came home to dinner. Too kindly by nature to hurt any one, he smiled +at Molly. Then he stopped and held out his hand. The woman took it, +saying earnestly: + +"I'm sorry, Theo.... I'm very sorry. I think I'm a little cat, don't +you?" and she laughed, the tension lifted from her by his cordiality. + +There was a wholesomeness in her manner that made Theodore's heart +glad. + +"Of course not, Molly!... You couldn't be that!... And next week we +will have a lovely day in the country." + +Molly turned away sadly. She had hoped he would do as she wanted him +to in spite of his appointment with Jinnie Grandoken. + +That evening Jinnie wore a beautiful new dress when she started for +the Kings. Of course she didn't know that Theodore had arranged with +Peggy to purchase it, and when Mrs. Grandoken had told her to come +along and buy the gown, Jinnie's eyes sparkled, but she shook her +head. + +"I'd rather you'd spend the money on Lafe and Bobbie," she said. + +But Peggy replied, "No," and that's how it came that Jinnie stepped +quite proudly from the motor car at the stone steps. + +Molly Merriweather met her with a forced smile, and Jinnie felt +strained until Theodore King's genial greeting dissipated the affront. +After the dinner, through which she sat very much embarrassed, she +played until, to the man watching her, it seemed as if the very roof +would lift from the house and sail off into the Heavens. + +When Jinnie was ready to go home, standing blushing under the bright +light, she had never looked more lovely. Molly hoped Theo would send +the girl alone in the car with Bennett, but as she saw him put on his +hat, she said, with hesitancy: + +"Mayn't I go along?" + +She asked the question of Theodore, and realized instantly that he did +not want her. + +Jinnie came forward impetuously. + +"Oh, do come, Miss Merriweather! It'll be so nice." + +And Molly hated the girl more cordially than ever. + +On arriving home Jinnie beamed out her happiness to the cobbler and +his wife. + +"And the fiddle, Peggy, they loved the fiddle," she told the woman. + +"Did you make it, Jinnie?" asked Peggy gruffly. + +"What, the fiddle?" demanded Jinnie. + +Peggy nodded. + +"No," faltered Jinnie in surprise. + +"Then don't brag about it," warned Peggy. "If you'd a glued them +boards together, it'd a been something, but as long as you didn't, it +ain't no credit to you." + +Lafe laughed, and Jinnie, too, uttered a low, rueful sound. How funny +Peg was! And when Mrs. Grandoken had gone to prepare for the night, +Lafe insisted that Jinnie tell him over and over all the happenings of +the evening. For a long time afterwards she sat dreaming, reminiscing +in sweet fancy every word and smile Theodore had given her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +"HAVEN'T YOU ANY SOUL?" + + +Whenever Molly Merriweather was mentioned to Theodore King, that young +man felt a twinge in his conscience. His mother had taken him gently +to task. Out of respect for Molly's wishes she refrained from speaking +of the girl's affection for him, but cautioned him to be careful not +to offend her companion. + +"She's very sensitive, you know, Theodore dear, and very good to me. I +really don't know what I'd do without her." + +"I was thoughtless!... I'll do better, mother mine," he smiled. "I'll +go to her now and tell her so." + +Theodore found Molly writing a letter in the library. He sank into an +easy chair and yawned good-naturedly. The woman was still furious with +him, so merely lifted her eyes at his entrance, and went on writing. +Theodore was quiet for a few moments, then with a laugh went to the +desk and took the pen forcibly from Molly's hand. + +"Come and make up," he said. + +"Have we anything to make up?" she asked languidly, keeping her eyes +on the paper. + +"Of course we have. You know very well, Molly, you're angry with +me.... Now mother says----" + +She caught his bantering tone, and resenting it, drew her fingers away +haughtily. + +"You learn good manners from your mother, it seems." + +Her tone was insolent and angered him. Theodore returned quickly to +his chair. + +"No, I don't," he denied. "You know I don't! But before you asked me +to go with you Saturday, I told you I had an appointment----" + +"Yes, and you told me who it was with, too," Molly thrust back in his +teeth. + +"Exactly, because there's no reason why I shouldn't. I've taken an +extreme interest in the little girl.... You offended me by talking +against her." + +Molly's temper was rising by the minute. She had armored herself with +a statement, the truth of which she would force upon him. + +"I'm not sure I said anything that wasn't true," she returned +discourteously. + +Theodore leaned back in his chair. + +"Then you didn't mean it when you said you were sorry?" he demanded +shortly. + +"I wanted you to go with me, that's all." + +"And you took that way to make me. Was that it?" + +Molly picked up her pen and made a few marks with it. + +"I'm not interested in Miss Grandoken," she replied. + +"So I notice," retorted Theodore, provokingly. + +She turned around upon him with angry, sparkling eyes. + +"I think you've a lot of nerve to bring her into your home." + +She hazarded this without thought of consequences. + +"What do you mean?" he asked presently, searching her face with an +analytical gaze. + +Molly was wrought up to the point of invention, perhaps because she +was madly jealous. + +"Men generally keep that sort of a woman to themselves," she +explained. "A home is usually sacred to the ordinary man." + +Theodore was stung to silence. It was a bitter fling, and his thoughts +worked rapidly. It took a long moment for his tall figure to get up +from the chair. + +"Just what _do_ you mean?" he demanded, thrusting his hands into his +pockets. + +"I don't believe I need tell you any more," she answered. + +Theodore stood in the middle of the room as if turned to stone. + +"I'm dense, I guess," he admitted huskily. + +Angered beyond reason or self-control, Molly pushed the letter away +impatiently and stood up. + +"Well, if you're so terribly dense, then listen. No man is ever +interested in a girl like that unless she is something more to him +than a mere----" She broke off, because a dark red flush was spreading +in hot waves over the man's face. But bravely she proceeded, "Of +course you wouldn't insult your family and your friends by marrying +her. Then what conclusion do you want them to draw?" + +Theodore looked at her as if she'd suddenly lost her senses. She had +cast an aspersion upon the best little soul in God's created world. + +"Well, of all the villainous insinuations I ever heard!" he thundered +harshly. "My God, woman! Haven't you any soul ... any decency about +you?" + +The question leaped out of a throat tense with uncontrollable rage. It +was couched in language never used to her before, and caused the woman +to stagger back. She was about to demand an apology, when Theodore +flung out of the room and banged the door behind him. + +Molly sat down quickly. Humiliating, angry tears flowed down her +cheeks and she made no effort to restrain them. What cared she that +Theodore had repudiated her accusation? She felt she had discovered +the truth, and nothing more need be said about it. + +After growing a little calmer, she saw that she'd made another mistake +by enraging Theodore. He had not taken her insults against the girl as +she had expected. + +Half an hour later she called his office and was informed he was out. + +Theodore left Molly more angry than he'd ever been in his life. +Instead of making him think less of Jinnie, Molly's aspersions drew +him more tenderly toward the girl. As he strode through the road under +the trees, his heart burned to see her. He looked at his watch--it was +four o'clock. Jinnie had had her lesson in the morning, so he could +not call for her at the master's. Just then he saw her walking quickly +along the street, and she lifted shy, glad eyes as he spoke her name. +By this time his temper had cooled, yet there lingered in his heart +the stabbing hurt brought there by Molly's slurs. He felt as if in +some way he owed an apology to Jinnie; as if he must make up for harm +done her by a vile, gossiping tongue. + +He fell into step beside her and gently took the violin box from her +hand. + +"And how is my little friend to-day?" he asked. + +His voice, unusually musical, made Jinnie spontaneously draw a little +nearer him. + +"I'm very well," she returned, demurely, "and I've learned some very +lovely things. I went up twice to-day--sometimes the master makes me +come back in the afternoon." + +It eased his offended dignity to see her so happy, so vividly lovely. +He had gone to Molly with the intention of asking her to go with him +some day soon to Mottville. He thought of this now with a grim setting +of his teeth; but looking at Jinnie, an idea more to his liking came +in its place. He would take _her_ somewhere for a day. She needed just +such a day to make her color a little brighter, although as he +glanced at her again, he had to admit she was rosy enough. +Nevertheless a great desire came over him to ask her; so when they had +almost reached the cobbler's shop, he said: + +"How would a nice holiday suit you?" + +Jinnie looked up into his face, startled. + +"What do you mean by a holiday? Not to take lessons?" + +Theodore caught her thought, and laughed. + +"Oh, no, not that! But I was thinking if you would go with me into the +country----" + +"For a whole day?" gasped Jinnie, stopping point blank. + +"Yes, for a whole day," replied Theodore, smiling. + +"Oh, I couldn't go. I couldn't." + +"Why?... Don't you want to?" + +Of course she wanted to go. Jinnie felt that if she knew she was going +with him, she'd fly to the sky and back again. + +"Yes," she murmured. "I'd like to go, but I couldn't--for lots of +reasons!... Lafe wouldn't let me for one, and then Bobbie needs me +awfully." + +They started on, and Jinnie could see Lafe's window, but not the +cobbler himself. + +"But I'd bring you back at dusk," Theodore assured her, "and you'd be +happy----" + +"Happy! Happy!" she breathed, with melting eyes. "I'd be more'n happy, +but I can't go." + +Theodore raised his hat quickly and left her without another word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +JINNIE DECIDES AGAINST THEODORE + + +Now for a few days Theodore King had had in mind a plan which, as he +contemplated it, gave him great delight. He had decided to send Jinnie +Grandoken away to school, to a school where she would learn the many +things he considered necessary. + +So one morning at Jinnie's lesson hour he appeared at the cobbler's +shop and was received by Lafe with his usual grave smile. + +"Jinnie's at the master's," said Mr. Grandoken, excusing the girl's +absence. + +"Yes, I know. The fact is, I wanted to talk with you and Mrs. +Grandoken." + +Lafe looked at him critically. + +"Bobsie," said he to the blind boy, "call Peggy, will you?" + +When the woman and child came in hand in hand, Peggy bowed awkwardly +to Mr. King. Somehow, when this young man appeared with his +aristocratic manner and his genial, friendly advances, she was always +embarrassed. + +Theodore cleared his throat. + +"For some time," he began, "I've had in mind a little plan for Miss +Jinnie, and I do hope you'll concur with me in it." + +He glanced from the cobbler to his wife, and Lafe replied, + +"You've been too kind already, Mr. King----" + +"It isn't a question of kindness, my dear Mr. Grandoken. As I've told +you before, I'm very much interested in your niece." + +Bobbie slipped from Mrs. Grandoken and went close to the speaker. + +"She's my Jinnie," breathed the boy with a saintly smile. + +Theodore laughed. + +"Yes, I know that, my lad, but you want her to be happy, don't you?" + +"She is happy," interjected Lafe, trembling. + +"You might tell us your plan," broke in Peg sourly, who always desired +to get the worst over quickly. + +"Well, it is to send her away to school for a few years." + +Bobbie gave a little cry and staggered to Peg, holding out his hands. +She picked him up, with bitterness depicted in her face. But when she +looked at her husband she was shocked, for he was leaning against the +wall, breathing deeply. + +"I knew the thought of letting her go would affect you, Mr. +Grandoken," soothed Theodore. "That's why I came alone. Jinnie's so +tender-hearted I feared the sight of your first grief might cause her +to refuse." + +"Does she know you was goin' to ask us this?" demanded Peg +suspiciously. + +Mr. King shook his head. + +"Of course not! If she had, she and I would have asked it together." + +"God bless 'er!" murmured Lafe. "You see it's like this, sir: Peg and +me don't want to stand in her light." + +"I won't let my Jinnie go," sighed Bobbie. "I haven't any stars when +she's gone." + +"The poor child's devoted to her," excused Lafe. "That's what makes +him act so about it." + +Theodore's sympathy forced him to his feet. + +"So I see," said he. "Come here, young man! I want to talk to you a +minute." + +Reluctantly Bobbie left Mrs. Grandoken, and Theodore, sitting again, +took him on his knee. + +"Now, Bobbie, look at me." + +Bobbie turned up a wry, tearful face. + +"I've got my eyes on you, sir," he wriggled. + +"That's right! Don't you want your Jinnie to learn a lot of things and +be a fine young lady?" + +"She is a fine young lady now," mumbled Bobbie stubbornly, "and she's +awful pretty." + +"True," acquiesced Theodore, much amused, "but she must study a lot +more." + +"Lafe could learn her things," argued Bobbie, sitting up very +straight. "Lafe knows everything." + +Mr. King smiled and glanced at the cobbler, but Lafe's face was so +drawn and white that Theodore looked away again. He couldn't make it +seem right that he should bring about such sorrow as this, yet the +thought of Jinnie and what he wanted her to be proved a greater +argument with him than the grief of her family. + +"I've told you, sir," Lafe repeated, "and I say again, my wife and me +don't want to stand in our girl's light. She'll decide when she comes +home." + +Theodore got up, placing Bobbie on his feet beside him. + +"I hope she'll think favorably of my idea, then," said he, "and +to-morrow I'll see her and make some final arrangements." + +After he had gone, Peggy and Lafe sat for a long time without a word. + +"Go to the kitchen, Bobbie," said Mrs. Grandoken presently, "and give +Happy Pete a bit of meat." + +The boy paused in his stumbling way to the kitchen. + +"I don't want my Jinnie to go away," he mumbled. + +When the door closed on the blind child, Peggy shook her shoulders +disdainfully. + +"She'll go, of course," she sneered. + +"An' we can't blame 'er if she does, Peg," answered Lafe sadly. "She's +young yet, an' such a chance ain't comin' every day." + +The woman got heavily to her feet. + +"I hate 'er, but the house's dead when she ain't in it," and she went +rapidly into the other room. + +Jinnie came into the shop wearily, but one look at the cobbler brought +her to a standstill. She didn't wait to take off her hat before going +directly to him. + +"Lafe--Lafe dear, you're sick. Why, honey dear----" + +"I ain't very well, Jinnie darlin'. Would you mind askin' Peggy to +come in a minute?" + +Mrs. Grandoken looked up as the girl came in. + +"Lafe wants you, Peg. He's sick, isn't he? What happened to him, +Peggy?" + +Bobbie uttered a whining cry. + +"Jinnie," he called, "Jinnie, come here!" + +Peg pushed the girl back into the little hall. + +"You shut up, Bobbie," she ordered, "and sit there! Jinnie'll come +back in a minute." + +Then the speaker shoved the girl ahead of her into the shop and stood +with her arms folded, austerely silent. + +"I want to know what's the matter," insisted Jinnie. + +"You tell 'er, Peg. I just couldn't," whispered Lafe. + +Mrs. Grandoken drew a deep breath and ground her teeth. + +"You've got to go away, kid," she began tersely, dropping into a +chair. + +Jinnie blanched in fright. + +"My uncle!" she exclaimed, growing weak-kneed. + +"No such thing," snapped Peg. "You're goin' to a fine school an' learn +how to be a elegant young lady." + +"Who said so?" flashed Jinnie. + +"Mr. King," cut in Lafe. + +Then Jinnie understood, and she laughed hysterically. For one blessed +single moment her woman's heart told her that Theodore would not be so +eager for her welfare if he didn't love her. + +"Was that what made your tears, Lafe?" + +Her eyes glistened as she uttered the question. + +Lafe nodded. + +"And what made Bobbie cry so loud?" + +"Yes." + +"Was Mr. King here?" + +"Sure," said Peg. + +"And he said I was to go away to school, eh?" + +"Yes," repeated Peg, "an' of course you'll go." + +Jinnie went forward and placed a slender hand on Lafe's shoulder. Then +she faced Mrs. Grandoken. + +"Didn't you both know me well enough to tell him I wouldn't go for +anything in the world?" + +If a bomb had been placed under Mrs. Grandoken's chair, she wouldn't +have jumped up any more quickly, and she flung out of the door before +Jinnie could stop her. Then the girl wound her arms about the +cobbler's neck. + +"I wouldn't leave you, dear, not for any school on earth," she +whispered. "Now I'm going to tell Mr. King so." + +Jinnie sped along Paradise Road and into the nearest drug store. It +took her a few minutes to find Theodore's number, and when she took +off the receiver, she had not the remotest idea how to word her +refusal. She only remembered Lafe's sad face and Bobbie's sharp, +agonizing calling of her name. + +"I want to speak to Mr. King," she said in answer to a strange voice +at the other end of the wire. + +Her voice was so low that a sharp reply came back. + +"Who'd you want?" + +"Theodore King." + +She waited a minute and then another voice, a voice she knew and +loved, said, + +"This is Mr. King!" + +"I'm Jinnie Grandoken," Theodore heard. "I wanted to tell you I +wouldn't go away from home ever; no, never! I wouldn't; I couldn't!" + +"Don't you want to study?" Mr. King asked eagerly. + +Jinnie shook her head as if she were face to face with him. + +"I'm studying all the time," she said brokenly, "and I can't go away +now. If they couldn't spare me one day, they couldn't all the time." + +"Then I suppose that settles it," was the reluctant reply. "I hoped +you'd be pleased, but never mind! I'll see you very soon." + +"I told him!" said Jinnie, facing the cobbler. "Now, Lafe, don't ever +think I'm going away, because I'm not. I've got some plans of my own +for us all when I'm eighteen. Till then I stay right here." + +At dinner Peg cut off a very large piece of meat and flung it on +Jinnie's plate. + +"I suppose you're plumin' yourself because you didn't go to school; +but you needn't, 'cause nothin' could drag you from this shop, an' +there's my word for it." Then she glanced at Lafe, and ended, "If 'er +leg was nailed to your bench, she wouldn't be any tighter here. Now +eat, all of you, an' keep your mouths shut." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +PEG'S VISIT + + +One morning Bobbie sat down gravely some distance from Lafe, took up +one of Milly Ann's kittens, and fell into troubled thought. After +permitting him to be silent a few moments, the cobbler remarked, + +"Anything on your mind, comrade?" + +"Yes," said Bobbie, sighing. + +"Can't you tell a feller what it is?" + +Bobbie pushed the kitten from his lap. He crept to the cobbler's side +slowly. Then, as he leaned his golden head against his friend, Lafe's +arm fell about him. + +"Tell me, laddie," insisted Mr. Grandoken. + +"My stars're all gone out," faltered the boy sadly. + +"What made 'em go out, Bob?... Can you tell?" + +"Yes," blubbered Bobbie. "I guess Jinnie's sick, that's what's the +matter." + +"Sick?" asked Lafe, in a startled voice. "Who said so?... Did she?" + +Bobbie shook his head. + +"No, but I know!... She cried last night, and other nights too." + +Lafe considered a moment. + +"I'm glad you told me, Bob," he said, knocking the ashes from his +pipe. + +Jinnie left the master's home with lagging footsteps. The idea of +going away to school had not appealed to her, but never in all her +life had she been so tempted to do anything as to go with Theodore for +one blessed day in the country--but a whole day from home could not be +thought of. + +The cobbler saw her crossing the tracks, and after the daily salute, +she came on with bent head. He watched her closely during the evening +meal and gave Bobbie credit for discovering the truth. After Peg had +wheeled him back to the shop and he was alone with Jinnie, Lafe called +her to him. + +"Bring the stool," said he, "an' sit here." + +Languidly she sank down, resting against him. She was very tired +besides being very unhappy. Lafe placed two fingers under her chin, +lifting her face to his. Her eyes were full of tears, and she no +longer tried to conceal her suffering. The cobbler remained quiet +while she cried softly. At last: + +"It's Maudlin Bates, ain't it, darlin'?" he asked. + +"No, Lafe." + +"Can't you tell your friend what 'tis?" + +"I guess I'm crying because I'm foolish, dear," she replied. + +"No, that's not true, Jinnie. I feel as bad seeing you cry's if 'twas +Peggy." + +This was a compliment, and Jinnie tried to sit up bravely, but a +friendly hand held her close. + +"Just begin, an' the rest'll come easy," Lafe insisted. + +Jinnie's tongue refused to talk, and of a sudden she grew ashamed and +dropped her scarlet face. + +"I don't believe I can tell it, Lafe dear," she got out. + +"Something about a man?" + +Jinnie nodded. + +"Then I got to know! Tell me!" he directed. + +His insistence drew forth a tearful confession. + +"Before Mr. King spoke about the school, he asked me to go a day in +the country with my fiddle, and I couldn't." + +After the telling, she caught her breath and hid her face. + +"Why?" Lafe demanded. "Why couldn't you?" + +Jinnie raised startled eyes to the cobbler's for the better part of a +minute. What did he mean? Was it possible---- + +"I thought you wouldn't let me----" + +"You didn't ask me, did you, Jinnie?" + +"No, because--because----" + +"Because why?" Lafe intended to get at the root of the matter. + +"Too long from the shop! Bobbie needs me," replied Jinnie. + +"I don't think so, child.... The kid'd be all right with me and Peg." + +"Lafe?" cried Jinnie, standing up and throwing her arms around him. + +"You ought to a told me when he spoke of it, Jinnie. I could a fixed +it." + +The cobbler smiled, and then laughed. + +Once more on the stool in front of him, Jinnie said: + +"I'm afraid Mr. King was a little offended." + +"It would a done you a lot of good to get out in the fields----" +chided Lafe. + +"And the woods, Lafe. I'd taken my fiddle. He asked me to." + +"Sure," replied Lafe.... "Call Peggy." + +Mrs. Grandoken, looking from one to the other, noticed Lafe's gravity +and signs of Jinnie's tears. + +"What's the matter?" she inquired. + +Lafe told her quietly, and finished with his hand on Jinnie's head. + +"Our little helper ought to have some fun, Peggy." + +Jinnie glanced up. What would Peggy think? But for a few minutes Peg +didn't tell them. Then she said: + +"She ought a went, I think, Lafe." + +Jinnie got up so quickly that Happy Pete and Milly Ann stirred in +their sleep. + +"Oh, Peg, I do want to--but how can I, now I've said I wouldn't?... +How can I?" + +"You can't," decided Peg gruffly, and Jinnie dropped down once more at +Lafe's feet. + +"I guess you'll have to forget about it, child, an' be 'Happy in +Spite'," said Lafe, with a sigh. + +The next day Peggy took Lafe into her confidence. + +"I think it could be did," she ended, looking at her husband. + +"Mebbe," said Mr. Grandoken thoughtfully. + +"I'll do it," snapped Peg, "but I hate 'er, an' you can bang me if +that ain't a fact, but--but I'll go, I said." + +About ten o'clock Peggy dressed and went out. + +Theodore King was in his office, trying to keep his mind on a line of +figures. Of late work palled on him. He sighed and leaned back +thoughtfully, striking and touching a match to his cigar. Memories of +blue-eyed Jinnie enveloped him in a mental maze. She stood radiant and +beckoning, her exquisite face smiling into his at every turn. + +He realized now how much he desired Jinnie Grandoken--and were she +with him at that moment, life could offer him nothing half so sweet. + +"I want her always," he said grimly, aloud to himself. + +A boy's head appeared at the door. + +"Woman to see you, sir," said he. + +"Who?" + +"Mrs. Grandoken." + +"Show her in," and Theodore stood up. + +Peggy came in embarrassedly. She had a mission to perform which she +very much disliked. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Grandoken," said Theodore, holding out his hand. + +"Good morning, sir," said Peg, flushing darkly. + +Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. How could she state her +errand to this dignified, handsome young man? He was looking at her +questioningly; but that wasn't all--he was smiling encouragingly +also. + +"Won't you sit down?" said he. + +Peggy coughed, smoothed her mouth with her hand, pulled the thin shawl +more closely about her shoulders, and took the indicated seat. Taking +no time to reflect on the best way to present her case, she blurted +out, + +"Lafe didn't know till last night about your askin' Jinnie to go for a +holiday?" + +"Oh!" + +The man was at a loss to say more than that one word in question. + +"No," replied Peggy, "and she's been cryin'----" + +"Crying?" ejaculated Theodore. "Crying, you say?" + +"Yes," nodded Peggy. + +"What'd she cry for?" asked Theodore. "She positively refused to go +with me." + +"I know it, but she thought me an' Lafe wouldn't let 'er." + +Theodore moved uneasily about the office. + +"And would you?" he asked presently. + +"Sure," responded Peggy, nodding vigorously. "Sure! Jinnie's been +workin' awful hard for years, an' Lafe'd like you to take 'er. But you +musn't tell 'er I come here." + +Saying this, Peggy rose to her feet. She had finished what she had +come to say and was ready to go. Theodore King laughingly thanked her +and shook her heartily by the hand. Then he escorted her to the door, +and she returned to Lafe a little less grim. + +It was nearly noon when Jinnie left the master's music room, carrying +her fiddle box. Her teacher noticed she played with less spirit than +usual, but had refrained from mentioning it. + +She was coming down the steps when King's car dashed up to the door. +Her meetings with him were always unexpected and found her quite +unprepared for the shock to her emotions. + +"I've come to take you home, Jinnie," said Theodore, jumping out. + +Jinnie's throat filled, and silently she allowed him to help her to +the seat. They were in the flat of the town before he turned to her. + +"I haven't given up my plan to take you away for a day," he said +gently. + +Jinnie gulped with joy. He was going to ask her again! Lafe and Peg +had said she could go. She waited for him to proceed, which he did +more gravely. + +"When I make up my mind to do a thing, I generally do it. Now which +day shall it be, Jinnie?" + +"I guess I'll have to let you tell," whispered Jinnie, which whisper +Theo caught despite the noise of the chugging motor. + +"Then, to-morrow," he decided, driving up to the cobbler's shop. "I'll +come for you at nine o'clock.... Look at me, Jinnie." + +Slowly she dragged a pair of unfathomable blue eyes to his. + +"We're going to be happy for one whole beautiful day, Jinnie," said he +hoarsely. + +He helped her out, and neither one spoke again. The motor started +away, and the girl rushed into the shop. + +Lafe had just said to Peggy, "There they be! He's been after 'er!" + +"Lafe, Lafe dear," Jinnie gurgled. "I'm going with 'im to-morrow. All +day with the birds and flowers! Oh, Peggy dear, I'm so happy!" + +Mrs. Grandoken glared at her. + +"Ugh! 'S if it matters to me whether you're happy or not!" + +Jinnie stooped and smothered Bobbie with caresses. With his arms +tightly about her neck, he purred contentedly, + +"My stars're all shinin' bright, Jinnie." + +"Kiss me, both of you kids!" was all Lafe said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEODORE + + +Jinnie looked very sweet when she bade farewell to Peg and Lafe the +next morning. Mr. King's car was at the door, and the cobbler watched +him as he stepped from it with a monosyllabic greeting to the girl and +helped her to the seat next to his. Peggy, too, was craning her neck +for a better view. + +"They're thick as thieves," she said, with a dubious shake of her +head. + +"I guess he likes 'er," chuckled Lafe. "To make a long story short, +wife, a sight like that does my eyes good!" + +Mrs. Grandoken shrugged her shoulders, growled deep in her throat, and +opined they were all fools. + +"An' quit doin' yourself proud, Lafe!" she grumbled. "You're grinnin' +like a Cheshire cat. 'Tain't nothin' to your credit she's goin' to +have the time of her life." + +"No, 'tain't to my credit, Peggy," retorted the cobbler, "but 'tis to +yours, wife." + +By the time Lafe finished this statement, Mr. King and Jinnie +Grandoken were bowling along a white road toward a hill bounding the +west side of the lake. + +"See that basket down here?" said the man after a long silence. + +"Yes." + +"That's our picnic dinner! I brought everything I thought a little +girl with a sweet tooth might like." + +Jinnie had forgotten about food. Her mind had dwelt only upon the fact +she was going to be with him all day, one of those long, beautiful +days taken from Heaven's cycle for dear friends. The country, too, +stretched in majestic splendor miles ahead of them, trees rimming the +road on each side and making a thick woodland as far as one could +see. + +"I'm glad I brought my fiddle," Jinnie remarked presently. + +"I am, too," said Theodore. + +The place he chose for their outing was far back from the highway, and +leaving the car at one side of the road, they threaded their way +together to it. The sky above was very blue, the lake quietly +reflecting its sapphire shades. Off in the distance the high hills +gazed down upon the smaller ones, guarding them in quietude. + +Theodore spread one of the auto robes on the ground, and shyly Jinnie +accepted his invitation to be seated. + +"Oh, it's lovely," she said in soft monotone, glancing at the lake. + +"Yes," replied Theodore dreamily. + +His eyes were upon the placid water, his thoughts upon the girl at his +side. Jinnie was thinking of him, too, and there they both sat, with +passionate longing in their young hearts, watching nature's great life +go silently by. + +"Play for me," Theodore said at length, without taking his eyes from +the water. "Stand by that big tree so I can look at you." + +Flushed, palpitating, and beautiful, Jinnie took the position he +directed. She had come to play for him, to mimic the natural world for +his pleasure. + +"Shall I play about the fairies?" she asked bashfully. + +"Yes," assented King. + +As on that night in his home when first she came into his life in +full sway, the man now imagined he saw creeping from under the flower +petals and from behind the tall trees, the tiny inhabitants of +Jinnie's fairyland. Then he turned his eyes toward her, and as he +watched the lithe young figure, the pensive face lost and rapt in the +lullaby, Theodore came to the greatest decision of his life. He +couldn't live without Jinnie Grandoken! No matter if she was the niece +of a cobbler, no matter who her antecedents were--she was born into +the world for him, and all that was delicate and womanly in her called +out to the manhood in him; and all that was strong, masterful, and +aggressive in him clamored to protect and shield her, and in that +fleeting moment the brilliant young bachelor suddenly lost his hold on +bachelordom, as a boy loses his hold on a kite. There are times in +every human life when such a decision as Theodore then made seemed the +beginning of everything. It was as if the past had wrapped him around +like the grey shell of a cocoon. + +A loose lock of hair fell coquettishly from the girl's dark head low +upon the fiddle, and Theodore loved and wanted to kiss it, and when +the instrument dropped from under the dimpled chin, he held out his +hand. + +"Come here, Jinnie," he said softly. "Come sit beside me." + +She came directly, as she always did when he asked anything of her. He +drew her down close to his side, and for a long time they remained +quiet. Jinnie was facing the acme of joy. The day had only begun, and +she was with the object of her dreams. Just as when she had lived in +the hills the fiddle had held the center of her soul, so now Theodore +King occupied that sacred place. The morning light rose in her eyes, +the blue fire transforming her face. + +[Illustration: "PLAY FOR ME," THEODORE SAID. "STAND BY THAT BIG TREE SO I +CAN LOOK AT YOU."] + +Theodore turned, saw, and realized at that moment. He discovered in +her what he had long desired. She loved him! All the old longing, all +the strength and passion within him broke loose at the nearness of +her. Suddenly he stretched out his arms and drew her still nearer. +Jinnie felt every muscle of his strongly fibered body grow tense at +her touch. She tried to draw away from his encircling arms, but the +rise and fall of her bosom, girlishly curved--the small-girl shyness +that caused her to endeavor to unloose his strong hands, only goaded +him to press her closer. + +"Don't leave me, my dearest, my sweet," he breathed, kissing her lids +and hair. "I love you! I love you!" + +She gasped once, twice, and her head fell upon his breast, and for a +moment she lay wrapped in her youthful modesty as in a mantle. + +"Kiss me, Jinnie," Theodore murmured entreatingly. + +She buried her head closer against him. + +"Kiss me," he insisted, drawing her face upward. His lips fell upon +hers, and Jinnie's eyes closed under the magic of her first kiss. + +The master-passion of the man brought to sudden life corresponding +emotions in the girl--emotions that hurt and frightened her. She put +her hand to his face, and touched it. He drew back, looking into her +eyes. + +"Don't," she breathed. "Don't kiss me any more like--like that." + +"But you love me, my girlie, sweet?" he murmured, his lips roving over +her face in dear freedom. "You do!... You do!" + +Jinnie's arms went about him, but her tongue refused to speak. + +"Kiss me again!" Theodore insisted. + +Oh, how she wanted to kiss him once more! How she gloried in the +strong arms, and the handsome face strung tense with his love for her! +Then their lips met in the wonders of a second kiss. Jinnie had +thought the first one could never be equaled, but as she lay limply in +his arms, his lips upon hers, she lost count of everything. + +It might have been the weird effect of the shadows, or the deep, +sudden silence about them that drew the girl slowly from his arms. + +"I want my fiddle," she whispered. "Let me go!" + +Faint were the inflections of the words; insistent the drawing back of +the dear warm body. + +Theodore permitted her to get up, and with staggering step she took +her position at the tree trunk. + +Then he sank down, hot blood coursing through his veins. Long ago he +had realized in Jinnie and the fiddle essentials--essentials to his +future and his happiness, and to-day her kisses and divine, womanly +yielding had only strengthened that realization. Nothing now was of +any importance to him save this vibrant, temperamental girl. There was +something so delightfully young--so pricelessly dear in the way she +had surrendered herself to him. The outside world faded from his +memory as Jinnie closed her eyes, and with a very white face began to +play. For that day she had finished with the song of the fairies, the +babbling of the brook, and the nodding rhythm of the flowers in the +summer's breeze. All that she considered now was Theodore and his +kisses. The bow came down over a string with one long, vibrating, +passionate call. It expressed the awakening of the girl's +soul--awakened by the touch of a man's turbulent lips--Jinnie's +God-given man. Her fiddle knew it--felt it--expressed it! + +With that first seductive kiss the soul-stirring melody was full born +within her, as a world is called into the firmament by one spoken word +of God. And as she played, Theodore moved silently toward her, for the +fiddle was flashing out the fervor of the kisses she had given him. + +He was close at her feet before he spoke, and simultaneously the white +lids opened in one blue, blue glance. + +"Jinnie!" breathed Theodore, getting up and holding out his arms. +"Come to me! Come to me, my love! I can't live another moment without +you." + +The bow and fiddle remained unnoticed for the next half hour, while +the two, the new woman and the new man, were but conscious of one +another, nothing else. + +At length Theodore spoke. + +"Jinnie, look up and say, 'Theodore, I love you'." + +It was hard at first, because her mind had never reached the point of +speaking aloud her passionate love for him, but Theodore heard the +halting words, and droned them over to himself, as a music lover +delights in his favorite strains. + +"And you love me well enough to marry me some day?" he murmured. + +Marry him! This, too, was a new thought. Jinnie's heart fluttered like +a bird in her breast. To be with him always? To have him for her own? +Of course, he was hers, and she was his! Then into her mind came the +thought of Lafe, Peggy, and Bobbie, and the arms around him relaxed. + +"I love you better'n anybody in the world," she told him, +pathetically, "but I can't ever leave the cobbler.... They need me +there." + +"They can't keep you," he cried passionately. "I want you myself." + +His vehemence subdued her utterly. She glanced into his face. In his +flashing eyes, Jinnie read a power inimitable and unsurpassed. + +"I couldn't ever leave 'em," she repeated, quivering, "but couldn't +they live----" + +"We'd take the little blind boy," promised Theodore. + +Jinnie remained pensive. To bring the shine in her eyes once more, he +said: + +"Wouldn't you like Bobbie to live with us?" + +"Yes, of course; but I couldn't leave Lafe and Peg in Paradise Road." + +Theodore surrounded the entreating, uplifted face with two strong +hands. + +"I know that. We'll take care of them all----" + +Still Jinnie held back her full surrender. + +"Can I take Happy Pete, too? And the cats? There's an awful lot of +'em.... Milly Ann does have so many kitties," she ended naively. + +Theodore laughed delightedly. + +"Dearest little heart! Of course we'll take them all, every one you +love!" + +"Will you tell Lafe about--about us?" Jinnie asked shyly, "I--I----" +but she had no more time to finish. + +"I'll tell him to-morrow, Jinnie!" exclaimed Theodore. "Are you happy, +dearest?" + +"So happy," she sighed, with loving assurance. + +The rest of the day they were like two frolicking children, eating +their luncheon under the tall trees. When the shadows fell, they left +their trysting place, and with their arms about each other, went +slowly back to the automobile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +WHAT THEODORE TOLD HIS FRIEND + + +"He's been gone all day," mourned Molly miserably to Jordan Morse. +They had finished dinner; Molly had put Mrs. King to bed, and the two +were seated in chairs on the lawn. Every minute that passed and found +Theodore still away was like an eternity to the woman. She had always +hated the office hours which took him from the house, hated the +business friends who dropped in now and then and changed the +conversation from the delicate personal things she always managed to +dwell upon. + +During the years she had been companion to Mrs. King, Theo's dinner +and luncheon hours were ones of joy to her. Now this day had passed +without him. + +"He'll show up before long," Morse said presently. "What a lot of +worry you have over that man!... Now if you had a problem on your +hands like mine----" + +The soft chug of a motor cut off his ejaculation. + +"He's coming, now," he said, getting up. + +Molly responded coldly to Theodore's friendly salute from the car. + +As Mr. King walked quickly toward them, Morse called laughingly, + +"We had just decided you'd been kidnapped." + +"Nothing like that," answered Theodore, "I've been in the country.... +Sit down, Jordan; no use standing up!" And Theodore seated himself on +the grass. + +"It's been a fine day," he went on boyishly, scarcely knowing what to +say. + +"Lovely," agreed Molly, and Jordan supplemented this by asking: + +"Have a--pleasant ride?" + +"Yes, delightful! One doesn't realize how murky the city is until he +goes in the country for a day." + +After a time, during which he looked up through the enfolding green of +the trees, he proceeded calmly, + +"I took Miss Grandoken on a picnic." + +Morse's sudden glance at Molly warned her to control herself. + +"She's an odd child," continued Theodore, "but, then, all geniuses +are. I don't know when I've so thoroughly enjoyed myself." + +Morse's "That's good," was closely followed by Molly's curt question, +"Where'd you go?" + +"Just up the lake a ways. We took some picnic stuff----" + +"And her fiddle, I suppose?" cut in Molly sarcastically. + +"Of course. Jinnie's not Jinnie without her fiddle." + +"She does play well," admitted Jordan. + +"More than well," interpolated Theodore. "She plays divinely." + +Then again they fell into an oppressive silence. + +Molly was so curious to know the events of the day she could scarcely +control her impatience. + +Suddenly Mr. King announced: + +"I'm going to marry Jinnie Grandoken." + +Molly and Morse slowly got to their feet. They stood looking down upon +the young millionaire with jaws apart and startled eyes. + +"Well, you needn't look as if I were about to commit some crime," he +said, quizzing them with laughing eyes. "I suppose a chap can get +married if he wants to; can't he?" + +"It's ridiculous," blurted Miss Merriweather. + +A drawn, helpless expression had crept into her eyes, making her +appear like an old woman. + +Theodore got to his feet. + +"What's ridiculous?" he demanded, immediately on the defensive. "My +wanting to be happy?" + +"Not that quite," replied the woman, "but surely you can't----" + +"I can and I will!" exclaimed Theodore decidedly. "I couldn't be happy +without her, and mother----" + +"It'll kill 'er," warned Molly significantly. + +"Not at all," denied Theodore. "My mother's a woman of sense! When she +knows her big boy's madly in love with the sweetest girl in the world, +she'll take it as a matter of course." + +Miss Merriweather turned toward the house. + +"I think I'll go," she said in strained tones. + +She had almost reached the veranda when Theodore called her. + +"Molly!" he shouted. + +"Yes?" + +"Don't tell mother. I want to surprise her." + +"Very well," and the woman went on again, trembling from the blow +which had struck her in the face. + +The two men, lolling under the trees, said but little more, and with +burning heart and unsettled mind, Jordan Morse went back to his +apartment. + +He had scarcely settled himself before his telephone tinkled. Taking +down the receiver, he said, + +"Well?" + +A faint voice answered him. + +"It's Molly, Jordan!... Listen! I'm down at the foot of the hill. Do +come here! I'm nearly frantic.... Yes, I'll wait." + +Very soon Molly saw Jordan crossing the street, and she went to meet +him. + +"Let's walk," she said fretfully. "I can't breathe." + +"If you feel like I do," replied Morse moodily, "I pity you." + +He led her to a small park where they sat down upon one of the wooden +benches. + +"I'm shocked beyond expression," said Molly wearily. + +"So am I," replied Morse. Then picking up the thread of thought which +had troubled him all the evening, he went on, "I need my boy! Every +night I'm haunted by dreams. I'd give up my plans about Jinnie if I +had him...." + +"Well, I never!" ejaculated Molly. + +"The trouble with you is you haven't any heart," went on Jordan. "How +you put your mind on anything but finding that child I don't know. But +I notice you manage to keep close on Theo's heels every minute." + +"I love him," admitted Molly. + +"Don't you love your son, your poor little lost son?" + +"Of course, Jordan! Don't be stupid!... Of course I do, but I don't +know where he is." + +"And you're making very little effort to find him, that's evident. +You've seen him, and I haven't, yet I'd give half my life to get my +hands on him." He paused, drew a long breath, and proceeded, "I'll +warn you of this much, Molly. When I do find him--and find him I +will--you won't get a chance to even see him." + +"Oh, Jordan!" gasped Molly. + +"That's right," he insisted, with an ugly shrug. "I tell you, Molly, +I've always been impressed with the idea mothers cared more for their +children than fathers, but I'm over that now since knowing you." + +"Oh, Jordan!" repeated Molly faintly once more. + +Not heeding her appealing voice, he rushed on, "I'd be willing to +strangle half the world for money to hire detectives to search for +him. But as I've said before, I'd let Jinnie alone if I had him--and +work for him with my two hands--if I had to dig graves." + +Molly turned her startled eyes upon the excited man. She had never +known the depths of his nature. + +"You make me tired," he proceeded with sarcasm. "What in hell do you +think Theodore could see in you when a girl like Jinnie cares for +him?" + +"Why, Jordan Morse!" stammered the woman. "How dare you talk to me +like that?" + +"Because it's true," replied Jordan hotly. "You're like a lot of +women--if a man looks sidewise at you, you think he's bowled over with +your charms. Good Heavens! It's sickening!" + +"I didn't ask you here to talk like this," said Molly. + +"What if you didn't?" snapped Jordan. "_You_ can talk now if you want +to! I'm going home in five minutes, and I want some money before I go, +too." + +"I'll give you some to-morrow. Now what're you going to do about +Theodore?" + +"Well, he won't marry Jinnie," replied Morse slowly. + +"How can you help it?" + +"That's what I'm going to figure out. If I can get her away from +Grandoken's, she won't get back, I can tell you that. But that damn +cobbler and Theo'll make such a devilish row----" + +"You needn't be profane," chided Molly. + +"A woman like you's enough to make any man swear.... Now listen to me. +The very fact that Jinnie ran away from home shows me that Tom +Singleton told her I put 'im in a mad house! Jinnie, of course, told +Grandoken. I've got to get that cobbler--and--you've got to help me +get Jinnie----" + +"Haven't I done all I could?" gasped Molly. "I can't go down there and +take her by the nape of the neck, can I?" + +"No, but I will! Now let's go! I want to do some pretty tall thinking +before morning. Once let those two people be married and I'm lost." + +"So am I," muttered Molly, swaying at his vehement words. + +They threaded their way back to the hill, and Morse left Molly at her +gate. As she walked slowly up the road, she could see the light in +Theodore's window, and his shadow thrown on the curtain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +JORDAN MORSE'S PLAN + + +The next morning Jordan Morse rose after a sleepless night, his face +drawn in long, deep-set lines. The hours had been spent in futile +planning. To save himself from the dire consequences of his misdeeds, +to procure the money which would come to Jinnie when she was eighteen +years old, was the one idea that dinned constantly at his brain. She +and the cobbler would have to be put out of the way, and this must be +done before Theodore announced publicly his intention of marrying the +girl. Jordan had no wish to break his friendship with Theodore, so he +could do nothing openly. If it were a mere case of filching what +little he could from Jinnie's estate before she became of age, it +would be an easy matter, but the girl must disappear. How? Where? +There was finality in one of his decisions that moment. He must get +possession of her that very day. Theodore would let no grass grow +under his feet. He would marry her offhand, and educate her +afterwards. + +Jordan wondered vaguely if the Jewish cobbler had an enemy among the +shortwood gatherers. If so, and the man could be found, it would bring +his own salvation. + +With this desire uppermost in his mind, Jordan wended his way to the +lower part of the town, passed into Paradise Road, and paused a second +in front of Lafe Grandoken's shop to read the sign: + +"Lafe Grandoken: Cobbler of Folks' and Children's Shoes and Boots." + +His lips curled at the crude printing, and he went on past the +remaining shanties to the entrance to the marsh. At the path where +Jinnie had so many times brought forth her load of wood, he paused +again and glanced about. As far north as he could see, the marsh +stretched out in misty greenness. The place seemed to be without a +human being, until Jordan suddenly heard the crackling of branches, +and there appeared before him a young man with deep-set, evil eyes, +and large, pouting mouth. Upon his shoulders was a shortwood strap. + +At the sight of Mr. Morse, the wood gatherer hesitated, made a sort of +obeisance, and proceeded to move on. Jordan stopped him with a motion +of his hand. + +"In a hurry?" he asked good-naturedly. + +"Got to sell my wood," growled the man. + +Morse appraised him with an analytical glance. + +"What's your name?" he demanded. + +"Maudlin Bates. What's yours?" + +"Jordan Morse.... Just wait a minute. I want to talk to you." + +Down came the shortwood strap on the ground. Maudlin scented something +interesting. + +"I got to sell my wood," he repeated, surly-toned. However, he nodded +his head when Jordan explained that it might be to his advantage to +tarry a while. + +"I'll pay you for your time," agreed Morse eagerly. + +Side by side they seated themselves on a fallen tree. The young wood +gatherer looked wicked enough to do anything that might be requested +of him. + +"Are you married?" asked Morse. + +Maudlin's face darkened. + +"No," he grunted moodily. + +"Ha! In love? I see!" laughed the other. + +Maudlin turned sheepish eyes on his interrogator; then looked down, +flushed, and finished: + +"I'd a been married all right if it hadn't been for a damn bloke along +Paradise Road," he explained. + +"Yes? Tell me about it." + +"Oh, what's the use! Everybody's stickin' their noses in my business, +and it ain't nothin' to do with 'em uther." + +"I might help you," suggested Jordan, seemingly interested. + +"Ain't anybody c'n help me," sulked Maudlin. "Got the richest man in +town 'gainst me, and money's what makes the mare go." + +The words "richest man" startled Morse, but he only said, "That's so! +But tell me just the same." + +"Aw, it's only a wench I wanted! A mutt by the name of King butted in +on me." + +Jordan Morse mentally congratulated himself that he had struck the +right nail on the head the very first whack. + +To gain possession of Jinnie's money meant finding his boy, and that +was the dearest wish of his heart. + +"You might tell me about it," he reiterated slowly. "I ought to be +able to help you." + +"Naw, you can't!" scoffed Maudlin. "My pa and me's tried for a long +time, but there ain't nothin' doin' with Jinnie. She's a sure devil, +Jinnie is." + +Jordan's blood tingled in anticipation. + +"Is that the girl's name?" he queried. + +"Yes, she's a niece of a cobbler up the track yonder, and as pretty a +little minx as walks Paradise Road. If I had 'er I'd fix her. I'd beat +her till she minded me, I c'n tell y' that!" + +"I believe beating's the way to subdue most women," said Morse, +lighting a cigarette. But as he said this, a slight smile passed over +his face. He thought of Molly Merriweather in connection with the +man's logic. + +"It's the way pa done to my stepmother," observed Maudlin presently. +"She was a onery woman as ever you see, but pa one day just licked +her, and then licked 'er every day till now she don't dast but mind +'im.... I'd do that with Jinnie if I had 'er." + +Morse watched rings of smoke curl upward in the summer air, breaking +among the branches of the trees. + +"Why don't you steal 'er?" he demanded at length. + +Bates' lower jaw fell down, showing discolored teeth. He stared at his +inquisitor in consternation. Then he dropped back into his former +slovenly attitude. + +"I never thought o' that," said he. + +"I'll help you," offered Morse, carelessly, brushing ashes from his +coat lapel. + +Maudlin turned his eyes slowly from their straight ahead position +until they came directly upon the handsome face of the other man. Then +the two looked long and steadily at each other. + +"What're you drivin' at?" blurted Bates. + +"Only that I'm also interested in getting Jinnie away from Grandoken. +The fact is I hate King, and I think it's a good way to get even with +him." + +He refrained, however, from mentioning he was Jinnie's relative. + +"D'you have me in mind when you come here?" questioned Bates. + +"No! But I felt sure there'd be some young buck round here who'd +fallen in love with the girl before this. And I found you without +asking----" + +"I'd make her beg me to marry her after I'd had 'er a week or two," +interrupted Maudlin, with dilating pupils. "How could we steal 'er?" + +"Just steal 'er, I said," replied Morse. + +"And I said, 'How?'" + +Morse waited a minute until Bates repeated once more, "How, mister?" +then he asked: + +"Can you run a motor car?" + +"No, but my pa can." + +"My God! You musn't mention this to any one, not even your father. +I'll run the car myself. You go to the cobbler and by some excuse get +the girl in the car--after that I'll see to her." + +Bates narrowed his eyes. + +"No, you won't see to nothin'," he growled surlily. "I don't take a +step till I know I get 'er. I'll marry 'er all right, but she's got to +want to marry me first." + +"I don't care what you do with 'er," replied Morse morosely. "Marry +'er or not, just get her, that's all!" + +"The cobbler's got a vixen of a wife," complained Maudlin at length. + +"Persuade her to go somewhere, can't you?" snapped Morse. + +"Yes, that's easy," drawled Maudlin, wobbling his head. + +For a long time they sat talking and planning, until at length Morse +put his hand in his pocket and handed the other man some money. +Maudlin tucked it away with a grin. + +"Easy cash, eh? What'd you say the dame's name was?" + +"Merriweather--Molly Merriweather. She's companion to Mr. King's +mother." + +"Jinnie fiddles all the afternoon.... Mebbe she won't go." + +"Yes, she will. Tell her Miss Merriweather wants her to arrange a +surprise for Theodore King. Tell 'er Miss Merriweather wants her to +play." + +Bates laughed evilly. + +"That'll fix the huzzy. Anything about that damn fiddle'll fetch 'er +every time! When I get 'er I'll bust it up for kindlin' wood." + +"Then it's settled," said Morse, rising. "You go this afternoon at +three o'clock to Grandoken's, tell Jinnie what I told you to, get the +cobbler into an argument, and I'll do the rest." + +"You'll be sure to be there?" + +"Of course! What'd you think I am? Keep your mouth shut! Be sure of +that." + +"Three o'clock, then," said Maudlin, getting up. "So long!" and +lifting his wood, he went on his way rejoicing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE MURDER + + +At half past one that afternoon a messenger appeared at Grandoken's +with a letter for Jinnie. + +Peggy called the girl to the shop. + +"Boy's got something for you," she declared. "It's a letter, I +guess." + +Jinnie held out her hand with thumping pulses, took the extended +pencil, and signed her name to a blank page. Then the boy held out the +missive. Of course it was from Theodore, thought Jinnie. She had +scarcely slept the night before, fitfully dreaming of him. Throwing a +shy smile at Peg, she went into her bedroom and shut the door. With a +long, ecstatic breath, she set herself to the delightful task of +slowly perusing the beloved epistle. + +"My darling," Jinnie read, and she kissed those two words, each one +separately. Then she whispered them again, "My darling," and read on: + +"I'm coming this afternoon at three to see your uncle, and I thought +you might like me to talk with him alone. It will be a simple matter +for you to take the little blind boy and go away for an hour or so, +but be sure and return at four. By that time I'll have our +arrangements all made, but I won't go until I see you. + +"I send all my love to you, my sweetheart. + +"Your own, + +"THEODORE." + +Jinnie kissed the words "my sweetheart" too, and then joyfully slipped +the letter inside her dress. She daren't speak of his coming, for how +could she conceal her happiness from Lafe? + +At two o'clock, she said to Peggy: + +"May I take Bobbie for a little walk, dear?" + +The blind child heard the request and scrambled up. + +"Can I go, Peggy?" he pleaded. + +Peg glared at the girl. + +"I thought you always fiddled in the afternoon," she queried. + +"I do generally," acquiesced Jinnie, "but--to-day----" + +"Well, go 'long," said Peg, not very graciously. "I'm goin' over to +Miss Bates' a while. Maudlin come by just now, an' said would I come +over.... Get back early!" + +Jinnie dressed Bobbie with trembling fingers. The boy noticed she +could scarcely button his jacket. + +"What's the matter, Jinnie dear?" he whispered. + +Jinnie was just slipping on his cap as he spoke. She bent and kissed +him passionately. + +"Nothing, honey, only Jinnie's happy, very happy." + +"I'm so glad," sighed Bobbie, with a smiling wag. "I'm happy too. +Let's go on the hill, and take Petey." + +"It'd be lovely, dear," replied the girl. + +A few minutes later, with the little dog at their heels, they were +wending their way up the board walk to the hill. + +Mr. Grandoken, alone in his shop, worked with contented vigor. The +days, those beautiful summer days, were bringing untold joy to him. +Peggy seemed in brighter spirits, and Jinnie's radiant face made Lafe +rejoice. Little Bobbie's stars were always shining nowadays, so what +more could the dear man want? As he sat tip-tapping, he took himself +in fancy to that day ahead when Heaven would unfold another blessing +for Peg--for him. He put down his hammer and glanced out of the +window, and suddenly Maudlin Bates loomed up, with all his hulking +swagger obliterating the shoemaker's mental bliss. + +Lafe nodded as Maudlin stepped into the shop. There was an unusually +aggressive expression upon the young wood gatherer's face, and Mr. +Grandoken refrained from asking him to sit down. Instead he +questioned: + +"Brought some cobblin'?" + +"No," said Bates. "Wanted to talk to you; that's all." + +"Hurry up, then, 'cause I'm busy." + +"Where's Jinnie?" queried Maudlin. + +Swift anger changed the cobbler's face. + +"What's that to you?" he demanded. "And you needn't be drippin' +tobacco juice around my shop." + +"Won't hurt it, I guess," answered Maudlin insolently, sitting down +heavily. + +With every passing minute, Lafe was growing more and more enraged. + +"Yap me your business and get out," he ordered, picking up his +hammer. + +He settled his eyes on the sodden face before him, and for a minute or +two each plumbed the strength of the other. + +"I'm goin' to marry Jinnie," announced Maudlin, drawing his large feet +together and clasping his fingers over his knees. + +The cobbler deliberately placed the hammer beside him once more and +leaned back against the wall. + +"Who said so?" he asked. + +"I do," defied Maudlin, swaggering. + +"Is that what you come to say to me?" + +"Yep." + +"Well, now you're done with your braggin', get out, an' get out +quick." + +But Maudlin didn't move. + +"I said to scoot," said Lafe presently, in suppressed tones. He was +magnificent in his ferocity. + +"I heard you!" observed Maudlin, still sitting, though a little cowed +in his former egotistical spirit. + +Lafe picked up the hammer and pounded frantically on the sole of a +shoe. + +"I'm goin' to have money," muttered Maudlin when the cobbler paused +for a few nails. + +As Lafe proceeded with his work silently, Maudlin said: + +"I'll marry Jinnie and take the empty shack next to pa's. I got money, +I said." + +Lafe's lips were moving rapidly, but the other could not hear what he +was saying. The fact was, the cobbler was asking for strength and +self-control. + +"Where's Jinnie?" demanded Maudlin again. + +"She ain't here," said Lafe, "an' I want you to get out before she +comes." + +He said this more gently, because his muttered prayers had somewhat +assuaged his rage. + +Just then a motor car dashed into the little lane at the side of the +house, and Maudlin knew that Morse had arrived. + +"I'll go when I see Jinnie," he insisted, sinking deeper into his +chair, "I want to tell 'er somethin' about a party." + +"Ain't no show o' your seein' 'er to-day," replied Lafe. "I bargained +with your pa about you lettin' my girl alone, and that's all there is +to it." + +"Pa's cobblin' ain't nothin' to do with me," observed Maudlin darkly. +"I'll wait for 'er!" + +At that minute Theodore King's car drew up in front of the shop, and +he stepped out. Maudlin caught a glimpse of him and set his teeth +sharply. He'd have it out with this man, too. They might as well all +understand what his intentions were. He wondered if Morse, from his +point of vantage, had seen Mr. King arrive. + +When Theodore swung into the shop, he paused at the sight of Bates and +frowned. He brought to mind the chastening he had given the fellow, +and how Jinnie had suffered through his brutality. + +Lafe smiled cordially at the young man and asked him to be seated. + +"Jinnie's out," stated the cobbler. + +"I know it!" responded Theodore, taking a chair. "I've come to have a +talk with you." Then looking from Mr. Grandoken to Maudlin, he +queried, "Will you soon be disengaged?" + +Lafe nodded. + +"I hope so," he said disinterestedly. + +Lafe always disciplined himself after a siege with his temper. + +"He won't be alone till I get through with 'im," grunted Maudlin, with +an ugly expression. "I been tellin' 'im I'm goin' to marry Jinnie." + +Lafe straightened with a throat sound that boded no good for the +speaker, and Theodore got swiftly to his feet. + +"Don't repeat what you've just said," the latter gritted between his +teeth, whirling on Maudlin. + +Bates shot out of his chair at this command. + +"My tongue's my own," he roared, "and Jinnie'll be glad to marry me +before----" + +Theodore's big fist swept out, striking the man full in the face, and +Maudlin dropped like an ox hit with an axe, but he was on his feet in +another minute. His rapidly swelling face was blanched with rage. + +"Damn you, twicet and three times damn you----" + +Lafe made an ejaculation, and neither one of the three men noticed +that the door to the little hall at the back had opened a trifle. + +Jordan Morse was peering in upon the enraged trio. He saw the man he'd +hired to help him take the first knock down and get up swiftly. He saw +Theodore King make another dive at the wood gatherer. The cobbler was +in direct range of Jordan's vision, and he slipped his hand into his +pocket, from which he took a revolver. Two quick, short cracks, and +the pistol came flying through the room and landed near the cobbler's +bench. Then the kitchen door slammed suddenly. Theodore staggered +forward and sank slowly to the floor, while Maudlin fell headlong +without a cry. + +As in a maze Lafe heard a motor leap away like a mad thing. Through +the window he could see Theodore's car where the young man had left +it. He made a desperate effort to rise, but sank back with a +shuddering groan. He forced his eyes to Bates, who was close to the +shop door, then dragged them backward to Mr. King, whose head was +almost under his bench. Each had received a bullet, and both lay +breathing unconsciously. The cobbler stooped over and placed his hand +under Theodore's head to straighten it a little. For a full minute +nothing was heard but the loud rattling in Maudlin's throat and the +steady, laborious breath of the man at his feet. + +Sudden tears diffused the cobbler's eyes, and he leaned over and +tenderly touched the damp forehead of Jinnie's friend. + +"He's given His angels charge over thee, boy," he murmured, just as +Jinnie, leading Bobbie by the hand, walked in. + +The girl took one impetuous step forward and noted Lafe's white, +agonized face. Then she caught a glimpse of the stricken men on the +floor. Her tongue refused its office, and dropping the blind child's +fingers, she came quickly forward. + +"Call help! Hurry! Get a doctor!" gasped Lafe, and Jinnie, without +saying a word, rushed out. + +Afterward she could not measure with accuracy the events of that +afternoon. Peggy came home and put the terrified Bobbie in bed, +telling him curtly to stay there until she allowed him to get up. +Several doctors rushed in and examined both Theodore and Maudlin. Not +one word had escaped Jinnie's pale lips until the wounded men were +removed from the shop. Then she sank at the cobbler's feet. + +"Will he die?" she whispered, in awe-stricken tones. + +"Maudlin's dyin'," replied the cobbler, with bowed head, "an' Mr. +King's awful bad off, the doctor says." + +Jinnie went to Lafe's side and put her arm about his neck, and as if +it had never been, their joy was blotted out by the hand of a bloody +tragedy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE COBBLER'S ARREST + + +Tearing away from Paradise Road, Jordan Morse drove madly up the hill. +No one had seen him come; no one had seen him go. He must get in touch +with Molly immediately. In his nervous state he had to confide in some +one. + +Molly had settled Mrs. King in an easy chair and was on the lawn, +pacing restlessly to and fro, when Jordan swiftly drove his machine +through the gate and up to the veranda. Catching one hasty glimpse of +his haggard face, the woman knew something extraordinary had +happened. + +"I've put my foot in it, all right," he ejaculated, jumping to the +soft grass. "My God! I don't know what I have done!" + +Molly's face blanched. + +"Tell me quickly," she implored. + +Jordan repeated his conversation with Maudlin Bates, stating how his +plans had suddenly matured on hearing the wood gatherer denounce King +and Grandoken. + +Then he proceeded a little more calmly. + +"It seems I hadn't been at the side door of Grandoken's shack a minute +before Theodore drove up." + +Molly's hands came together. + +"Theodore?" she repeated breathlessly. + +"Yes, and the Bates man was with Grandoken. I heard loud talking, +stole into the little hall, and found the back part of the house +empty. Jinnie wasn't there; at least I didn't see her. Bates had +already inveigled Mrs. Grandoken away. I opened the door into the +cobbler's shop just as Theo was striking Bates in the face. I waited a +minute, and as Theo struck out again, I fired----" + +"Fired!" gasped Molly. + +"Yes, at Grandoken. I wanted to kill him----" + +"But Theo--you might have hit Theodore, Jordan." + +"But I didn't, I tell you! I'm sure I didn't. If I hit any one, 'twas +Bates or the cobbler.... Get back near the veranda for fear Theodore +'phones." + +No sooner had the words left his lips than a bell sounded from the +house. Molly ran up the steps. As she took down the receiver, she +dropped it, but picked it up again. + +"Halloa," she called faintly. + +"Is this Theodore King's home?" shouted a voice. + +"Yes." + +"Mr. King's had an accident. He's in the hospital. Break the news +carefully to his mother, please." + +Dazedly, Molly slipped the receiver back to its hook. She stumbled to +the porch and down the steps, her face ashen with anguish. + +"You shot Theo, Jordan," she cried hysterically. + +"Shut your head," growled Morse, glancing furtively about. "Don't talk +so loud.... Now then, listen! There'll be hell to pay for this. But +Bates won't peach, and I'm sure I clipped the cobbler's wings. Keep +quiet till you hear from me." + +He sprang again into the machine and was gone before the woman could +gather her wits together. + +She turned and went slowly up the steps. It was her duty to break the +news to Theodore's mother--she who knew so much, but dared to tell so +little! How to open the conversation with the gentle sufferer she knew +not. + +Mrs. King smiled a greeting as she entered, but at the sight of +Molly's face, her book dropped to the floor. + +"What is it?" she stammered. + +Molly knelt down beside her. + +"Probably very little," she said hastily. "Don't get +excited--please--but--but----" + +"It's Theodore!" gasped the mother, intuitively. + +"He's hurt a little, just a little, and they've taken him to the +hospital." + +Mrs. King tried to rise, but dropped back weakly. + +"He's badly hurt or he'd come home." + +"I'll find out," offered Molly eagerly. Then as an afterthought, "I'll +go if you'll promise me to stay very quiet until I get back." + +"I promise," said Mrs. King, sobbing, "but go quickly! I simply can't +be still when I'm uncertain." + +In another house of lesser proportions, a girl was huddled in a chair, +gazing at Lafe Grandoken. + +"An' they told you over the telephone he was dyin'?" he demanded, +looking at Jinnie. + +"Yes," gulped Jinnie, "and Maudlin's dead. The hospital people say Mr. +King can't live." The last words were stammered and scarcely audible. +"Lafe, who shot him?" + +"I dunno," said Lafe. + +"Didn't you see who had the gun?" persisted the girl, wiping her +eyes. + +"Mr. King didn't have it; nuther did Maudlin. It came from over there, +an' I heard a car drive away right after." + +Jinnie shook her head hopelessly. It was all so mysterious that her +heart was gripped with fright. A short time before, an officer had +been there cross-questioning Lafe suspiciously. Then he had gone away +with the pistol in his pocket. She stared out of the window, +fear-shadowed. In a twinkling her whole love world had tumbled about +her ears, and she listened as the cobbler told her once more the story +of the hour she'd been away with Bobbie. + +"There're two men coming here right now," she said suddenly, getting +up. "Lafe, there's Burns, the cop on this beat." + +"They're wantin' to find out more, I presume," replied Lafe wearily. + +As the men entered the shop, Jinnie backed away and stood with rigid +muscles. She was dizzily frightened at the sight of the gruff +officers, who had not even saluted Lafe. + +The foremost man was a stranger to them both. + +"Are you Lafe Grandoken?" he demanded, looking at the cobbler. + +"Yes," affirmed Lafe. + +The man flourished a paper with staid importance. + +"I'm the sheriff of this county, an' I've a warrant for your arrest +for murderin' Maudlin Bates," he sing-songed. + +Jinnie sprang forward. + +"Lafe didn't shoot 'im," she cried desperately. + +The man eyed her critically. + +"Did you do it, kid?" he asked, smiling. + +"No, I wasn't here!" answered Jinnie, short-breathed. + +"Then how'd you know he didn't do it?" + +For a moment Jinnie was nonplussed. Then she came valiantly to her +friend's aid. + +"I know he didn't. Of course he didn't, you wicked, wicked men! Don't +you dare touch 'im, don't you dare!" + +"Well, he's got to go with me," affirmed the man in ugly, sneering +tones. "Whistle for the patrol, Burns, and we'll wheel the Jew in!" + +Jinnie heard, as in a hideous dream, the shrill, trilling whistle; +heard the galloping of horses and saw a long black wagon draw up to +the steps. + +When the two sullen men laid violent hold of the wheelchair, Jinnie's +terrified fingers reached toward the cobbler, and the sheriff gave her +hand a sharp blow. Lafe uttered an inarticulate cry, and at that +moment Jinnie forgot "Happy in Spite," forgot Lafe's angels and the +glory of them, and sprang like a tiger at the man who had struck her. +She flung one arm about his neck and fought him with tooth and nails. +So surprised was Policeman Burns that he stood with staring eyes, +making no move to rescue his mate from the tigerish girl. + +"Damn you! Damn you!" screamed Jinnie. "I'll kill you before you take +'im." + +Lafe cried out again, calling her name gently, imploringly, and +tenderly. When his senses returned, Burns grasped Jinnie in his arms +and held her firmly. There she stood panting, trying to break away +from the policeman's detaining fingers. She looked half crazed in the +dimming late afternoon light. + +"Merciful God, but you're a tartar, miss!" said the sheriff ruefully. +"Well, if she ain't clawed the blood clean through my skin!" + +"She comes of bad stock," exclaimed Burns. "You can't expect any more +of Jews. Go on; I'll hold 'er till you and Mike get the chair out." + +Hearing this, Jinnie began to sob hysterically and make more desperate +efforts to free herself. The viselike fingers pressed deeper into her +tender flesh. + +"Here, huzzy, you needn't be tryin' none of your muck on me," said +Burns. "Keep still or I'll break your arm." + +Jinnie sickened with pain, and her eyes sought Lafe's. If he'd been in +his coffin, he couldn't have been whiter. + +"Jinnie," he chided brokenly, "you've forgot what I told you, ain't +you, lass?" + +Through the suffering, tender mind flashed the words he'd taught her. + +"There aren't any angels, Lafe," she sobbed. "There aren't any." + +Then, as another man entered the shop, she cried: "Don't take 'im, oh, +please don't take 'im, not now, not just yet, not till Peggy gets +back." + +Turning around in his chair, Lafe looked up at the men. + +"Could--I--say--good-bye--to my--wife?" he asked brokenly. + +"Where is she?" demanded the officer. + +"Gone to the store," answered Lafe. "She'll be here in a minute." + +"Let 'er come to the jail," snapped the angry sheriff. "She'll have +plenty of time to say good-bye there." + +At that they tugged the chair through the narrow door. Then two boards +were found upon which to roll it into the patrol. + +Inside the shop Jinnie was quiet now, save for the convulsions that +rent her body. She looked up at the man holding her. + +"Let me go," she implored. "I'll be good, awful good." + +Perhaps it was the pleading blue eyes that made the officer release +her arms. Jinnie sprang to the door, and as Lafe saw her, he smiled, +oh such a smile! The girl ran madly to him. + +"Lafe! Lafe!" she screamed. "Lafe dear!" + +Lafe bent, touched the shining black curls, and a glorified expression +spread over his face. + +"He's given His angels charge over you, lass," he murmured, "an' it's +a fact you're not to forget." + +Then they rolled him up the planks and into the wagon. With clouded +eyes Jinnie watched the black patrol bowl along toward the bridge, and +as it halted a moment on Paradise Road to allow an engine to pass, the +cobbler leaned far out of his wheel chair and waved a thin white hand +at her. Then like a deer she ran ahead until she came within speaking +distance of him. The engine passed with a shrieking whistle, and the +horses received a sharp crack and galloped off. Jinnie flung out her +arms. + +"Lafe!" she screamed. "I'll stay with Peg till you come." + +He heard the words, waved once more, and the wagon disappeared over +the bridge. + +For full ten minutes after Lafe was taken away, Jinnie sat in the shop +like one turned to stone. The thing that roused her was the side door +opening and shutting. She got up quickly and went into the little +hall, closing the shop door behind her. Mrs. Grandoken, with bundles +in her hands, was entering the kitchen. Jinnie staggered after her. + +"Peggy," murmured Jinnie, throwing her arms about the stooped +shoulders. "You'll be good----" + +It was as if she had said it to Bobbie, tenderly, low-pitched, and +imploring. Peg seemed so miserable and thin. + +"What's the matter with you, kid?" growled Mrs. Grandoken. + +"The town folks," groaned Jinnie, "the town folks've made a mistake, +an awful mistake." + +Mrs. Grandoken turned sunken eyes upon the speaker. + +"What mistake've they made?" + +Jinnie's throat hurt so she couldn't say any more. + +"What mistake?" asked Peg again. + +"They think Lafe shot----" + +Peggy wheeled on the hesitating speaker. Shoving her to one side, she +stalked through the door. Jinnie flew after her. + +"Peggy, Peg, he'll come back!" + +Mrs. Grandoken opened the shop door and the empty room with overturned +chairs and scattered tools told its silent, eloquent tale. + +"Honey," whispered Jinnie. "Honey dear----" + +"God's Jesus," muttered Peg, with roving eyes, "God's Jesus, save my +man!" + +Then she slid to the floor, and when she once more opened her eyes, +Jinnie was throwing water in her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +ALONE IN THE SHOP + + +Later in the day Jordan Morse and Molly Merriweather met at the +hospital. They looked into each other's eyes, not daring to mention +the terrible consternation that possessed them. + +"Have you heard anything?" murmured Molly, glancing about before +speaking. + +Jordan nodded his head. + +"It's awful," he said. "Bates is dead--if you say a word, I'm lost." + +"Depend on me," Molly assured him. "Oh, how dreadful it all is! +Theodore must get well," she continued in agitation. + +"Well, he won't!" snarled Morse. Then he went on passionately. "Molly, +I swear I didn't intend to shoot _him_. I was mad clear through and +aimed at the cobbler." + +"Hush!" warned Molly. "Some one's coming." + +A young doctor approached them with gravity. + +"Mr. King?" murmured Molly. + +"Is slowly failing. The bullet found a vital spot----" + +"And the other man--Bates? Is it true he's dead?" interjected Morse +eagerly. + +"Yes, he died shortly after the tragedy. It's all a mystery, but I +think they've arrested the guilty man." + +Both listeners stared at the speaker as if he'd told them the world +had come to an end. It was Morse who managed to mutter: + +"What man?" + +"Haven't you heard? They've arrested Lafe Grandoken. The shooting +occurred in his cobbling shop, and the gun was found as proof of his +crime. Of course, like all Jews, he's trying to invent a story in his +own favor.... He's undoubtedly the criminal." + +Not until they were in the street did Jordan express himself to +Molly. + +"What heavenly luck! So they've arrested Grandoken. If Theodore +lives----" + +Molly clutched his arm. + +"Oh, he must! He must! Jordan! I shall die myself if he doesn't." + +Jordan Morse turned sharply upon her. + +"Don't throw a fit right here. You're not the only one suffering. My +atmosphere is cleared a little with Grandoken's arrest, though." + +"But you've still to reckon with Jinnie," ventured Molly. + +"Easy now," returned the man. "I'll get her before Theodore is well." + +"Take me home," pleaded Molly wearily. "Such a day as this is enough +to ruin all the good looks a woman ever had." + +Disgustedly, Jordan flung open the motor door. + +"Well, my God, you've got about as much brains and heart as a +chipmunk. Climb in!" + +Later, as the two separated, Morse said, with low-pitched voice: + +"Now, then, I'm going to plan to get Jinnie. Might's well be hung for +a sheep's a lamb----I'm just as well satisfied that Bates is dead. +After I secure Jinnie--then for my boy. God! I can scarcely wait until +I have him." + +Miss Merriweather went into the house in utter exhaustion, nor did +she pause to take off her hat before telling Theodore's mother the +little she could to encourage her. + +If Molly was suffering over the crime which had sent the man she loved +to the hospital, Jinnie was going through thrice that agony for the +same man. He had almost met his death in coming to tell Lafe of their +love, and had been struck down in his mission by an unknown hand. +Jinnie knew it was an unknown hand, because just as sure as she lived, +so sure was she that Lafe had not committed the crime. The cobbler had +explained it all to her, and she believed him. Peggy was dreadfully +ill! After her fainting spell, the girl put Mrs. Grandoken to bed, and +then went to comfort Bobbie. She found him huddled on his pillow, +clasping Happy Pete in his arms. The small face was streaked with +tears and half buried from sight. + +"Bobbie," called Jinnie softly. + +The yellow head came up with a jerk, the flashing grey eyes begging in +mute helplessness an explanation for these unusual happenings. + +"I'm here, Jinnie. What's the matter with everybody?" + +Jinnie lay down beside him. + +"Peggy's sick," she said, not daring to say more. + +"Where's Lafe?" + +An impulsive arm went across the child's body. + +"He's gone away for a little while, dear, just for a few days!" + +Something in her tones made Bobbie writhe. With the acuteness of one +with his affliction, his ears had caught the commotion in the shop. + +"But he can't walk, Jinnie. Did he walk?" he demanded. + +"No." + +"How'd he go, in a motor car?" + +"No," repeated the girl. + +"Some one took him, then?" demanded Bobbie. + +"Yes." + +"In a wagon?" + +By this time she could feel the tip-tap of his anguished heart against +hers. + +"Yes," she admitted, but that was all. She felt that to tell the truth +then would be fatal to the throbbing young life in her arms. + +"Bobbie," she whispered, cuddling him. "Lafe's coming home soon. Be a +good boy and lie still and rest. Jinnie'll come back in a few +minutes." + +She crawled off the bed, and went to the shop door. By main force she +had to drag her unwilling feet over the threshold. She stood for two +tense minutes scanning the room with pathetic keenness. Then she +walked forward and stood beside the bench. It seemed to be sentiently +alive with the magnetism of the man who had lately occupied it. Jinnie +sat on it, a cry bursting from her white lips. She wanted to be with +him, but she had promised to take care of Peggy, and she would rather +die than betray that trust. Her eyes fell upon two dark spots upon the +floor, one near the door and one almost under her feet. She shuddered +as she realized it was blood. Then she went to the kitchen for water +and washed it away. This done, she gathered up Lafe's tools, +reverently kissing each one as she laid it in the box under the bench. +How lonely the shop looked in the gathering gloom! To dissipate the +lengthening shadows in the corners, she lighted the lamp. The +flickering flame brought back keenly the hours she had spent with +Lafe--hours in which she had learned so much. The whole horror that +had fallen on the household rushed over her being like a tidal wave +over a city. Misery of the most exquisite kind was tearing her heart +in pieces, stabbing her throat with long, forklike pains. Tense throat +muscles caught and clung together, choking back her breath until she +lay down, full length, upon the cobbler's bench. + +In poignant grief she thought of the expression of Lafe's face when he +had been wheeled from the room. His voice came back through the faint +light. + +"He has given His angels charge over thee, lassie." + +But how could she believe in the angels, with Lafe in prison and +Theodore dying? She got up, spent and worn with weeping, and went in +to Peggy, sitting for a few minutes beside the agonized woman, but she +could not say one word to make that agony less. In losing the two +strong friends, she had lost her faith too. Peg's face was turned to +the wall, and as she didn't answer when the girl laid her hand on her +shoulder, Jinnie tiptoed out. In her own room she lay for seemingly +century-long hours with Bobbie pressed tightly to her breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +JINNIE EXPLAINS THE DEATH CHAIR TO BOBBIE + + +Seven days had dragged their seemingly slow length from seconds to +minutes, from minutes to hours, from hours to days. In the cobbler's +shop Jinnie and Bobbie waited in breathless anxiety for Peg's return. +She had gone to the district attorney for permission to visit her +husband in his cell. Nearly three hours had passed since her +departure, and few other thoughts were in the mind of the girl save +the passionate wish for news of her two beloved friends. She was +standing by the window looking out upon the tracks, and as a heavy +train steamed past she counted the cars with melancholy rhythm. There +came to her mind the day she had found Bobbie on the hill, and all the +sweet moments since when the cobbler had been with them. She choked +back a sob that made a little noise in her tightened throat. + +Bobbie stumbled his unseeing way to her and shoved a small, cold hand +into hers. + +"Jinnie's sad," he murmured. "Bobbie's stars're blinkin' out." + +Mrs. Grandoken and Jinnie had come to an understanding that Bobbie +should not know of the cobbler's trouble, so the strong fingers closed +over the little ones, but the girl did not speak. At length she caught +a glimpse of Peg, who, with bent head, was stumbling across the +tracks. Peggy had failed in her mission! Jinnie knew it because the +woman did not look up as she came within sight of the house. + +As Mrs. Grandoken entered slowly, Jinnie turned to her. + +"You didn't see him?" she said in a tone half exclamation, half +question. + +"No," responded Peg, wearily, sitting down. "I waited 'most two hours +for the lawyer, an' when he come, I begged harder'n anything, but it +didn't do no good. He says I can't see my man for a long time. I guess +they're tryin' to make him confess he killed Maudlin." + +Jinnie's hand clutched frantically at the other's arm. Both women had +forgotten the presence of the blind child. + +"He wouldn't do that," cried Jinnie, panic-stricken. "A man can't own +up to doing a thing he didn't do." + +"Course not," whispered Bobbie, in an awed whisper, and the girl sat +down, drawing him to her lap. She could no longer guard her tongue nor +hide her feelings. She took the afternoon paper from Mrs. Grandoken's +hand. + +"Read about it aloud," implored the woman. + +"It says," began Jinnie, "Mr. King's dying." + +The paper fluttered from her hand, and she sat like a small graven +image. To see those words so cruelly set in black and white, staring +at her with frightful truth, harrowed the very soul of her. A sobbing +outburst from Bobbie mingled with the soft chug, chug of the engine +outside on the track. Happy Pete, too, felt the tragedy in the air. He +wriggled nearer his young mistress and rested his pointed nose on one +of her knees, while his twinkling yellow eyes demanded, in their +eloquent way, to know the cause of his loved ones' sorrow. + +Peggy broke a painful pause. + +"Everybody in town says Lafe done it," she groaned, "an'----" she +caught her breath. "Oh, God! it seems I can't stand it much longer!" + +Jinnie got up, putting the limp boy in her chair. She was making a +masterful effort to be brave, to restrain the rush of emotion +demanding utterance. Some beating thing in her side ached as if it +were about to burst. But she stood still until Peg spoke again. + +"It's all bad business, Jinnie! an' I can't see no help comin' from +anywhere." + +If Peg's head hadn't fallen suddenly into her hands, perhaps Jinnie +wouldn't have collapsed just then. As it was, her knees gave way, and +she fell forward beside the cobbler's wife. Bobbie, in his helpless +way, knelt too. + +Since Lafe's arrest the girl had not prayed, nor could she recall the +promises Lafe had taught her were made for the troubled in spirit. +Could she now say anything to make Peg's suffering less, even if she +did not believe it all herself? + +"Peg," she pleaded, "don't shiver so!... Hold up your head.... I want +to tell you something." + +Peggy made a negative gesture. + +"It ain't to be bore, Jinnie," she moaned hoarsely. + +"Lafe ain't no chance. They'll put him in the chair." + +Such awful words! The import was pressed deeper into two young hearts +by Peg's wild weeping. + +Jinnie staggered to her feet. Blind Bobbie broke into a prolonged +wail. + +"Lafe ain't never done nothin' bad in all his life," went on the +woman, from the shelter of her hands. "He's the best man in the world. +He's worked an' worked for everybody, an' most times never got no pay. +An' now----" + +"Don't say it again, Peggy!" Jinnie's voice rang out. "Don't think +such things. They couldn't put Lafe in a wicked death chair--they +_couldn't_." + +Bobbie's upraised eyes were trying to pierce through their veil of +darkness to seek the speaker's meaning. + +"What chair, Jinnie?" he quivered. "What kind of a chair're they goin' +to put my beautiful Lafe in?" + +Jinnie's mind went back to the teachings of the cobbler, and the slow, +sweet, painful smile intermingled with her agony. Again and again the +memory of the words, "He hath given his angels charge over thee," +swelled her heart to the breaking point. She wanted to believe, to +feel again that ecstatic faith which had suffused her as Maudlin Bates +pulled her curls in the marsh, when she had called unto the Infinite +and Theodore had answered. + +Peg needed Lafe's angels at that moment. They all needed the comfort +of the cobbler's faith. + +"Peg," she began, "your man'd tell you something sweet if he could see +you now." + +Peg ceased writhing, but didn't lift her face. Jinnie knew she was +listening, and continued: + +"Haven't you heard him many a time, when there wasn't any wood in the +house or any bread to eat, tell you about--about----" + +Down dropped the woman's hands, and she lifted a woebegone face to her +young questioner. + +"Yes, I've heard him, Jinnie," she quavered, "but I ain't never +believed it!" + +"But you can, Peggy! You can, sure! Lots of times Lafe'd say, 'Now, +Jinnie, watch God and me!' And I watched, and sure right on the minute +came the money." She paused a moment, ruminating. "That money we got +the day he went away came because he prayed for it." + +The girl was reverently earnest. + +"Lafe's got a chance, all right," she pursued, keeping Peg's eye. +"More'n a chance, if--if--if----Oh, Peggy, we've got to pray!" + +"I don't know how," said Peg, in stifled tones. + +Jinnie's face lighted with a mental argument Lafe had thrown at her +in her moments of distrust. She was deep in despondency, but something +had to be done. + +"Peg, you don't need to know anything about it. I didn't when I came +here. Lafe says----" + +"What'd Lafe say?" cut in Peggy. + +"That you must just tell God about it----" Jinnie lifted a white, +lovely face. "He's everywhere--not away off," she proceeded. "Talk to +Him just like you would to Lafe or me." + +Mrs. Grandoken sunk lower in her chair. + +"I wisht I'd learnt when Lafe was here. Now I dunno how." + +"But will you try?" Jinnie pleaded after a little. + +"You know 'em better'n I do, Jinnie," Peg muttered, dejectedly. "You +ask if it'll do any good." + +Jinnie cleared her throat, coughed, and murmured: + +"Close your eyes, Bobbie." + +Bobbie shut his lids with a gulping sob, and so did Peg. + +Then Jinnie began in a low, constrained voice: + +"God and your angels hovering about Lafe, please send him back to the +shop. Get him out of jail, and don't let anybody hurt him. Amen." + +"Don't let any chair hurt my beautiful cobbler," wailed Bobbie, in a +new paroxysm of grief. "Gimme Lafe an' my stars." + +In another instant Peggy staggered out of the room, leaving the blind +boy and Jinnie alone. + +As the door closed, Bobbie's voice rose in louder appeal. Happy Pete +touched him tenderly with a cold, wet nose, crawling into his arms +with a little whine. + +Jinnie looked at her two charges hopelessly. She knew not how to +comfort them, nor could she frame words that would still the agony of +the child. Yet she lifted Bobbie and Happy Pete and sat down with them +on her lap. + +"Don't cry, honey," she stammered. "There! There! Jinnie'll rock +you." + +Her face was ashen with anxiety, and perspiration stood in large drops +upon her brow. Mechanically she drew her sleeve across her face. + +"I'm going to ask you to be awful good, Bobbie," she pleaded +presently. "Lafe's being arrested is hard on Peg--and she's sick." + +Bobbie burst in on her words. + +"But they'll sit my cobbler in a wicked chair, and kill him, Jinnie. +Peggy said they would." + +"You remember, Bobbie," soothed the girl, "what Lafe said about God's +angels, don't you?" + +The yellow head bent forward in assent. + +"And how they're stronger'n a whole bunch of men?" + +"Yes," breathed Bobbie; "but the chair--the men've got that, an' mebbe +the angels'll be busy when they're puttin' the cobbler in it." + +This idea made him shriek out louder than before: "They'll kill Lafe! +Oh, Jinnie, they will!" + +"They can't!" denied Jinnie, rigidly. "They can't! Listen, Bobbie." + +The wan, unsmiling blind face brought the girl's lips hard upon it. + +"I want to know all about the death chair," he whimpered stubbornly. + +"Bobbie," she breathed, "will you believe me if I tell you about it?" + +"Yes," promised Bobbie, snuggling nearer. + +"Hang on to Pete, and I will tell you," said Jinnie. + +"I'm hangin' to 'im," sighed Bobbie, touching Pete's shaggy forelock. +"Tell me about the chair." + +Jinnie was searching her brain for an argument to satisfy him. She +wouldn't have lied for her own welfare--but for Bobbie--she could +feel the weak, small heart palpitating against her arm. + +"Well, in the first place," she began deliberately, "Peg doesn't know +everything about murders. Why, Bobbie, they don't do anything at all +to men like Lafe. Why, a cobbler, dear, a cobbler could kill everybody +in the whole world if he liked." + +Bobbie's breath was sent out in one long exclamation of wonder. + +"A cobbler," went on Jinnie impressively, "could steal loaves of bread +right under a great judge's nose and he couldn't do anything to him." + +Jinnie had made a daring speech, such a splendid one; she wanted to +believe it herself. + +"Tell me more," chirped Bobbie. "What about the death chair, Jinnie?" + +She had nursed the hope that the boy would be satisfied with what she +had already told him, but she proceeded in triumphant tones: + +"Oh, you mean the chair Peg was speaking about, huh? Sure I know all +about that.... There isn't anything I don't know about it.... I know +more'n all the judges and preachers put together." + +A small, trustful smile appeared at the corners of Bobbie's mouth. + +"I know you do, Jinnie," he agreed. "Tell it to me." + +Jinnie pressed her lips on his hair. + +"And if I tell you, kiddie, you'll not cry any more or worry Peggy?" + +"I'll be awful good, and not cry once," promised the boy, settling +himself expectantly. + +"Now, then, listen hard!" + +Accordingly, after a dramatic pause, to give stress to her next +statement, she continued: + +"There isn't a death chair in the whole world can kill a cobbler." + +Bobbie braced himself against her and sat up. His blind eyes were +roving over her with an expression of disbelief. Jinnie knew he was +doubting her veracity, so she hurried on. + +"Of course they got an electric chair that'll kill other kinds of +men," she explained volubly, "but if you'll believe me, Bobbie, no +cobbler could ever sit in it." + +Bobbie dropped back again. There was a ring of truth in Jinnie's +words, and he began to believe her. + +"And another thing, Bobbie, there's something in the Bible better'n +what I've told you. You believe the Bible, don't you?" + +"Lafe's Bible?" asked Bobbie, scarcely audible. + +"Sure! There isn't but one." + +"Yes, Jinnie, I believe that," said the boy. + +"Well," and Jinnie glanced up at the ceiling, "there's just about a +hundred pages in that book tells how once some men tried to put a +cobbler in one of those chairs, and the lightning jumped out and set +'em all on fire----" + +Bobbie straightened up so quickly that Happy Pete fell to the floor. + +"Yes, yes, Jinnie dear," he breathed. "Go on!" + +Jinnie hesitated. She didn't want to fabricate further. + +"It's just so awful I hate to tell you," she objected. + +"I'd be happier if you would," whispered Bobbie. + +"Then I will! The fire, jumping out, didn't hurt the cobbler one wee +bit, but it burned the wicked men----" Jinnie paused, gathered a deep +breath, and brought to mind Lafe's droning voice when he had used the +same words, "Burned 'em root and branch," declared she. + +Bobbie's face shone with happiness. + +"Is that all?" he begged. + +"Isn't it enough?" asked Jinnie, with tender chiding. + +"Aren't there nothin' in it about Lafe?" + +"Oh, sure!" Again she was at loss for ideas, but somehow words of +their own volition seemed to spring from her lips. "Sure there is! +There's another hundred pages in that blessed book that says good men +like Lafe won't ever go into one of those chairs, never, never.... The +Lord God Almighty ordered all those death chairs to be chopped up for +kindling wood," she ended triumphantly. + +"Shortwood?" broke out Bobbie. + +Unheeding the interruption, Jinnie pursued: "They just left a chair +for wicked men, that's all." + +Bobbie slipped to the floor and raised his hands. + +"Jinnie, pretty Jinnie. I'm goin' to believe every word you've said, +every word, and my stars're all shinin' so bright they're just like +them in the sky." + +Jinnie kissed the eager little face and left the child sitting on the +floor, crooning contentedly to Happy Pete. + +"Lafe told me once," Jinnie whispered to herself on the way to the +kitchen, "when a lie does a lot of good, it's better than the truth if +telling facts hurts some one." + +She joined Peggy, sighing, "I'm an awful liar, all right, but Bobbie's +happy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +WHAT THE THUNDER STORM BROUGHT + + +In the past few weeks Jinnie Grandoken had been driven blindly into +unknown places, forced to face conditions which but a short time +before would have seemed unbearable. However, there was much with +which Jinnie could occupy her time. Blind Bobbie was not well. He was +mourning for the cobbler with all his boyish young soul, and every day +Peggy grew more taciturn and ill. The funds left by Theodore were +nearly gone, and Jinnie had given up her lessons. She was using the +remaining money for their meagre necessities. + +So slowly did the days drag by that the girl had grown to believe that +the authorities would never bring Lafe to trial, exonerate him, and +send him home. Then, too, Theodore was still in the hospital, and she +thought of him ever with a sense of terrific loss. But the daily +papers brought her news of him, and now printed that his splendid +constitution might pull him through. It never occurred to her that her +loved one would believe Lafe had shot him and Maudlin Bates. Theodore +was too wise, too kindly, for such suspicions. + +For a while after receiving permission from the county attorney, she +visited Lafe every day. Peggy had seen him only once, being too +miserable to stand the strain of going to the jail. But Mrs. Grandoken +never neglected sending by the girl some little remembrance to her +husband. Perhaps it was only a written message, but mostly a favorite +dish of food or an article of his wearing apparel. + +One afternoon Bobbie sat by the window with his small, pale face +pressed close to the pane. Outside a great storm was raging, and from +one end of Paradise Road to the other, rivulets of water rushed down +to the lake. Several times that day, when the boy had addressed Mrs. +Grandoken, she had answered him even more gruffly than of yore. He +knew by her voice she was ill, and his palpitating heart was wrung so +agonizingly that he was constantly in tears. Now he was waiting for +Jinnie, and the sound of the buffeting rain and the booming roar of +heavy thunder thrilled him dismally. To hear Jinnie's footsteps at +that moment would be the panacea for all his grief. + +Peg came into the shop, and Bobbie turned slightly. + +"Jinnie's stayin' awful long at the jail to-day," said the woman +fretfully. "Do you hear her comin', Bobbie?" + +"No," said Bobbie, "I've been stretchin' my ears almost to the hill to +hear her. If she doesn't come soon, I'll die--my stars've been gone a +long time." + +"I wish she'd come," sighed Mrs. Grandoken. + +"Bend over here, Peg," entreated Bobbie, "I want to touch your eyes!" + +Without comment the woman leaned over, and the boy's fingers wavered +over her wrinkled countenance. + +"You're awful sick, dearie," he grieved, pressing against her. "Can +Blind Bobbie do anything?" + +Peg dropped her arm around him. + +"I'm afraid," she whispered. "I wish Lafe and Jinnie was here." + +One long shiver shook Bobbie's slender body. That Peg could ever be +afraid was a new idea to him. It terrified him even to contemplate it. +He began to sob wistfully, but in another instant raised his head. + +"She's comin'," he cried sharply. "I hear 'er. I got two stars, mebbe +three." + +When Jinnie opened the door, the water was dripping from her clothes, +and her hair hung in long, wet curls to her waist. One look into Peg's +twisted, pain-ridden face, and she understood. + +"I'm glad you're here," said the woman, with a gesture of +helplessness. And Bobbie echoed, with fluttering hands, "I'm glad, +too, Jinnie. Me and Peg was so 'fraid." + +The girl spoke softly to Bobbie, and drew Peggy into the bedroom. +There, with her arm thrown across Mrs. Grandoken's shoulder, she gave +all the assurance and comfort of which she was capable. + +Long after midnight, the rain still came down in thrashing torrents, +and through the pieces of broken tin on the roof the wind shrilled +dismally. + +There was a solemn hush in the back bedroom where Peggy lay staring at +the ceiling. In front of the shadowy lamp was a bit of cardboard to +protect the sick woman's eyes from the light. At Peggy's side sat +Jinnie, and in her arms lay a small bundle. Jinnie had gained much +knowledge in the last few hours. She had discovered the mystery of all +existence. She had seen Peg go down into that wonderful valley of life +and bring back Lafe's little boy baby, and the girl's eyes held an +expression of impenetrable things. She moved her position slightly so +as to study Mrs. Grandoken's face. + +Suddenly Peg's eyes lowered. + +"Jinnie, gimme a drink, will you?" + +Placing the child on the bed, the girl got up instantly. She went to +the kitchen and returned with a glass of milk. It had scarcely touched +the woman's lips before she raised her hand and pushed it away. + +"I mustn't drink that," she whispered feebly. + +"I got it specially for you, Peggy dear," insisted Jinnie.... "Drink +it," she wheedled, "please." + +Then Jinnie sat down again, listening as the elements kept up their +continuous rioting, and after a while they lulled her to rest. +Suddenly her head dropped softly on the bundle in her arms, and the +three--Peggy, Jinnie and the tiny Jewish baby--slept. + +Jinnie's name, spoken in low tones, roused her quickly. She raised her +head, a sharp pain twisting her neck. Peggy was looking at her, with +misery in her face. + +"I feel awful sick, Jinnie," she moaned. "Can't you say somethin' +t'me, somethin' to make me feel better?" + +Something to make her feel better! The words touched the listener +deeply. Oh, how she wanted to help! To alleviate Peg's suffering was +her one desire. If it had been Bobbie, or even Lafe, Jinnie would have +known exactly what to say; but Peggy, proud, stoical Peggy! + +"Let me put the baby with you where it's warm, Peg," she said, gently. +"I'm going to talk to you a minute.... There, now, you're all safe, +little mister, near your mammy's heart." + +Then she knelt down by the bed and took the woman's hot fingers in +hers. + +"Peggy," she began softly, "things look awful bad just now, but Lafe +told me once, when they looked that way, it was time for some one to +come along and help. I'll tell you about it, Peg! Eh?" + +"Who c'n come?" demanded Mrs. Grandoken, irritably. "Mr. King can't, +an' we hain't no other friends who'll come to a cobbler's shop." + +The question in her voice gave Jinnie the chance she was looking for. + +"Yes, there is," she insisted. "Now listen, while I say something; +will you?" + +"Sure," said Peg, squeezing Jinnie's fingers. + +Then Jinnie started to repeat a few verses Lafe had taught her. She +couldn't tell exactly where they were in the Bible, but the promise in +them had always made her own burdens lighter, and since seeing Lafe +daily, she had partially come back to her former trust. + +"'The Lord is my Shepherd,'" she droned sleepily. Then on and on until +she came to, "'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of +death,'" and Peg broke into a sob. + +"'I will fear no evil,'" soothed Jinnie, amid the roaring of the wind +and the crackling of the thunder over the hill. + +"'For thou art with me,'" she finished brokenly. "He's the one I was +talking about, Peggy. He'll help us all if we can believe and be----" + +Then she quickly ended, "Happy in Spite." + +Peg continued to sob. One arm was across her baby boy protectingly, +and the other hand Jinnie held in hers. + +"Somehow things seem easier, Peggy, when you hold your head up high, +and believe everything'll come all right.... Lafe said so; that's why +he started the club." + +"I wisht I could think that way. I'm near dead," groaned the woman. + +Jinnie smoothed the soft, grey-streaked hair. + +"Wouldn't you like to come into the club, dear?" she faltered, +scarcely daring to put the question. "Then you'll be happy with us +all--with Lafe and Bobbie and--and----" + +Jinnie wanted to say another name, but doubted its wisdom--and then +abruptly it came; "and Jinnie," she finished. + +Peggy almost sat up in bed. + +"Darlin'," she quivered. "Darlin' girl, I've been cussed mean to Lafe +an' you. I've told you many a time with my own mouth I hated you, but +God knows, an' Lafe knows, I loved you the minute I set eyes on you." +She dropped back on the pillow and continued, "If you'll take me in +your club, an' learn me how to believe, I'll try; I swear I will." + +For a long time Jinnie sat crooning over and over the verses she'd +learned from Lafe, and bye-and-bye she heard Peg breathing regularly +and knew she slept. Then she settled herself in the chair, and sweet, +mysterious dreams came to her through the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE STORY OF A BIRD + + +Lafe Grandoken, in his wheel chair, sat under the barred prison +window, an open Bible on his knees. Slowly the shadows were falling +about him, and to the man every shade had an entity of its own. First +there trooped before him all the old memories of the many +yesterdays--of Peg--his little dead lad--and Jinnie. And lastly, +ghostlike, came the shattered hopes of to-morrow, and with these he +groaned and shivered. + +Jinnie stole in and looked long upon her friend through the +iron-latticed door. The smile that played with the dimples in her +cheeks and the dancing shadows in the violet eyes indicated her +happiness. Lafe looked older and thinner than ever before, and her +heart sang when she thought of the news she had to tell him. She +longed to pronounce his name, to take away the far-away expression +that seemed to hold him in deep meditation. During her tramp to the +jail she'd concocted a fairy story to bring a smile to the cobbler's +lips. So at length: + +"Lafe," she whispered. + +Mr. Grandoken's head came up quickly, and he turned the chair and +wheeled toward her. There was the same question in his eyes that had +been there for so many days, and Jinnie smiled broadly. + +"Lafe," she began mysteriously, "a great big bird flew right into the +house last night. He flopped in to get out of the storm!" + +"A bird?" repeated Lafe, startled. + +"Yes, and everybody says it's awful good luck." + +Lafe's expression grew tragic, and Jinnie hurried on with her tale. + +"I'll bet you can't guess what kind of a bird 'twas, Lafe." + +Lafe shook his head. "I can't lessen 'twas a robin," said he. + +Jinnie giggled. + +"My, no! He was a heap bigger'n a robin. Guess again!" + +Such chatter from Jinnie was unusual, especially of late, but Lafe +bore it patiently. + +"I can't," he sighed, shaking his head. + +Jinnie clapped her hands. + +"I knew you couldn't! Well, Lafe, it was a--a----" + +"Yes?" queried Lafe wearily, during her hesitation. "Well, Jinnie?" + +"It was a great, big, beautiful white stork, Lafe, and he brought you +a new Jew baby. What'd you think of that?" + +"Jinnie, girl, lass, you ain't tellin' me----" + +"Yes, dear, he's there, as big as life and twice as natural, Peg +says.... Of course," she rambled on, "the stork went away, but the Jew +baby--to make a long story short, he's with----" + +"His ma, eh, dear?" interjected Lafe. "How's Peg, honey?" + +"Oh, she's fine," replied Jinnie, "and I've a lot to tell you, +dearest." + +"Begin," commanded Lafe, with wide, bright eyes. + +Jinnie commenced by telling how lovely the baby was. Of course she +didn't rehearse Peg's suffering. It wouldn't do any good. + +"And the baby looks like you, Lafe," she observed. + +"Does he really?" gasped Lafe, trying to smile. + +"He's got your Jew look 'round his nose," added Jinnie gravely. "You +wanted him to look like you, didn't you, Lafe?" + +"Sure, Jinnie. And now about Peggy? Tell me about Peggy." + +"Peggy's with us, Lafe----" Jinnie stopped and drew a long breath. +"What'd you think? Oh--guess!" + +"I couldn't! Tell me, Jinnie! Don't keep me waitin' for good things." + +"Peggy's in the 'Happy in Spite', and I'm learning her all the verses +you taught me." + +Then Lafe's head dropped on his hands and tears trickled through his +fingers. + +"I wish I could see her," he groaned deeply. + +"When she gets well, you can," promised Jinnie, "and mebbe the baby." + +Lafe's head was raised quickly and his eyes sparkled. + +"I'd love to see 'em both," was all he could stammer. + +The girl thrust her fingers through the bars to him, and they stood +thus, regarding each other in all confidence and faith, until Jinnie +dropped his hand. + +"Mr. King's getting well," she said softly. + +"I'm glad, very glad. He don't think I done it, does he, Jinnie?" + +"No, and when I see him I'll tell him you didn't." + +And as if that settled it, she turned to go; then hesitating, she +smiled upon him. + +"Give me four nice kisses, Lafe. I'll take one to Peg, Bobbie, and the +baby, and keep one for myself." Then after their lips had met through +the bars in resounding smacks, Jinnie gasped, "We can't forget Milly +Ann and Happy Pete. Two more, honey!" + +"God bless you, Jinnie lass," murmured Lafe, trying to hide his +emotion, and then he wheeled quickly back into the falling afternoon +light under the window. + +Jinnie's energetic mind was busy with a scheme. She wasn't sure it +would meet with Peg's approval, but when she arrived home, she sat +down beside Mrs. Grandoken. + +"Now, Peggy," she began emphatically, "I want you to pay attention to +what I'm saying to you." + +"I will," said Peggy. + +"Lafe wants to see the baby!" + +"Now?" asked Mrs. Grandoken, surprised. + +"Well, he didn't say just now, but his eyes asked it, 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 after each caress. He would never have enough of those +sweet kisses, never, never! And as his lips descended reverently upon +the smooth, rose-colored skin, Mr. Grandoken laughed, and Jinnie +laughed, and the baby, too, wrinkled up his nose. + +"Lafe," Jinnie said tenderly, drawing the baby away, "I knew you +wanted to see him; didn't you?" + +Lafe nodded. "An' I'll never be able to thank you for this, Jinnie.... +Let me kiss him once more.... Oh, ain't he beautiful?" + +Just before the girl wrapped the boy again in the shortwood, she +suggested, + +"Lafe, what's against taking him into the 'Happy in Spite'? He's +happier'n any kid in the whole world, having you for a daddy and Peg +for his mother." + +Jinnie thrust the baby's plump hand through the bars, and Lafe, with +tears in his eyes, shook it tenderly, then kissed it. + +"Lafe Grandoken, Jr," he whispered, "you're now a member of the 'Happy +in Spite' Club." + +And then Jinnie took the baby back to Peggy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +JINNIE'S VISIT TO THEODORE + + +So suddenly had the two strong, friendly forces been swept from +Jinnie's daily life that as yet she had not the power to think with +precision. Lafe she had had every day for almost three years, and +Theodore King--oh, how she loved him! Rumors were afloat that no power +could save Lafe--her dear, brave cobbler. + +Day by day the girl's faith increased, and of late she had uttered +silent prayers that she might be allowed to see Theodore. + +One morning she was in the kitchen rocking little Lafe when Peggy +called her. + +"There's some one to see you," said she. + +Jinnie gave the mother her baby and went to the shop door. A man in a +white suit smiled down upon her. + +"I'm from the hospital," said he. "Mr. King would like to see you this +morning." + +Jinnie's heart seemed to climb into her throat. + +"Mr. Theodore King?" she murmured. + +"Yes," said the young man. "I've got a car here. Will you come?" + +"Of course! Wait till I get my hat." + +Once at their destination, they tiptoed into Theodore's room +noiselessly, and as Jinnie stood over the bed, looking down upon him, +she suffered keenly, he looked so deathlike; but she resolutely +controlled her feelings. When Theodore glanced at her, she forced +herself to smile, and the sight of the lovely girl refreshed the sick +man, giving him a new impetus to recover. + +He smiled back, endeavoring not to show his weakness. + +"You see I'm getting well," he whispered. + +Jinnie nodded. She wasn't sure whether he was or not. How her heart +ached to do something for him! + +One of his long, thin hands lay over the coverlet, and Jinnie wanted +to kiss it. Tears were standing thick on her lashes. + +The doctor stood beside her, consulting his watch. + +"If you wish to speak, Mr. King," he said kindly, "you must do so +quickly, for the young lady can stay but two minutes more. That's +all!" + +The doctor turned his back upon them, watch in hand. + +"Kiss me, dear!" murmured Theodore. + +Oblivious of the doctor's presence, Jinnie stooped and kissed him +twice, taking the thin hand he extended. + +"I sent for you because I feared you'd go to work at the wood again." + +Jinnie would reassure him on this point even by an untruth, for she +might be driven, for the sake of Peggy and the children, to go back +into that hated occupation. + +"I promise I won't," she said. + +"Are you still taking lessons?" + +Jinnie shook her head. + +"I couldn't when you were sick. I just couldn't." + +"But you must; you must go to-morrow. I have something here for you," +he said, reaching under the pillow with his free hand. + +Jinnie drew back abashed. + +"You're too sick to think of us," she murmured. + +Theodore raised her hand to his lips. + +"No! No, darling, I think of you always--every day and shall even +when I'm dead. You must take this money. Do you love me, dearest, very +much?" + +He smiled again as she stooped impetuously to kiss him, and with her +face very close to his, she whispered, + +"Lafe didn't do it, darling!" + +"I know it," replied Theodore, closing his eyes. + +Then the doctor turned and sent her away. + +When she sank back in the automobile, Jinnie opened her hand with the +roll of bills in it, and all the way home, she repeated, "He has given +His angels charge over thee." She was hoping and praying for Theodore +King. + +Two days later, coming down the hill, she met Miss Merriweather on +horseback. The young woman stopped her and asked her to accompany her +home. Jennie hesitated. She still had memories of the cat sent to its +death in Molly's fit of anger and the woman's chilling reception of +her at the King dinner. Nevertheless she turned and walked slowly +beside the horse. When they reached the porch of Mr. King's home, a +groom came and led the animal away. Jinnie laid down her fiddle, +taking the chair indicated by Molly. It had been Jordan Morse's idea +that she should endeavor to again talk with the girl, but the woman +scarcely knew how to begin. Jinnie looked so very lovely, so +confiding, so infinitely sweet. Molly leaned over and said: + +"Wasn't it queer how suddenly I remembered who you were? That night at +the party your name refused to come to my mind. I've wanted to tell +you several times how sorry I was about your accident!" + +"I recognized you the minute I saw you," said Jinnie, smiling, +relieved a little by Molly's apology. + +"You've a good memory," answered Molly. "Now I want to tell you +something, and I hope you'll be guided by my judgment." + +Jinnie looked straight at her without a sign of acquiescence. + +"What is it?" she asked presently. + +"You must leave Grandoken's!" + +Jinnie started to speak, but Molly's next words closed her lips. + +"Please don't get nervous! Listen to me! You're a very young and very +pretty girl and there--there is some one interested in you." + +Jinnie pricked up her ears. Some one interested in her! Of course she +knew who it was. Theodore! But she wouldn't leave Peggy even for him, +and the thought that he would not ask this of her brought her +exquisite joy. + +"Is it Mr. King who's interested in me?" she asked, timidly. + +Molly's eyes narrowed into small slits. + +"No, it isn't Mr. King who's interested in you!" she replied a trifle +mockingly. "Mr. King's too sick to be interested in anybody." + +Jinnie couldn't refrain from saying, "He looked awful ill when I saw +him at the hospital." + +Molly stared at her blankly. She grew dizzy and very angry. This girl +always made her rage within herself. + +"You've seen him since--since----" + +A maddened expression leapt into Molly's eyes. + +"I drive there every day, but they won't let _me_ see him," she said, +reddening. + +"Mr. King sent for me," Jinnie replied, resolutely. + +And as the girl admitted this, with deepening flushes, Molly looked +away. When she had first spoken of Jinnie's future to Jordan Morse, +she had pleaded with him to be kind to her, but now she could surround +that white throat and strangle the breath from it without +compunction. + +"Will you tell me what he said to you?" she queried, trying to hide +her anger. + +Jinnie looked down, and locked her fingers together. + +"I can't tell," she said at length, moving in discomfort. + +She wanted to go--to get away from the woman who looked at her so +analytically, so resentfully. She got up nervously and picked up her +fiddle. + +"Don't go," urged Molly, starting forward. + +Then she laughed a little and went on, "I suppose I did feel a bit +jealous at first because we--Mr. King and I--have been friends so many +years. But now we won't think any more about it. I do want you to go +from that terrible Paradise Road. It's no place for a girl in your +position." + +"You've told me that before," retorted Jinnie, with clouded eyes. "My +position isn't anything. I haven't any other home, and I'm a sort of a +helper to Peggy." + +A helper to Peggy! Doubtless if Lafe had heard that he would have +smiled. Truly she was a wonderful little helper, but she was more than +that, much more--helper, friend, and protector all in one. + +"Another thing," added Jinnie quickly, "I love 'em all." + +"You've your own home in Mottville," the woman suggested. "You ought +to be there." + +Jinnie sank back into the chair. + +"Oh, I couldn't ever go there!" she cut in swiftly. "But I can't tell +you why." + +"Don't you want me to help you?" + +Jinnie shook her head doubtfully. + +"It wouldn't help any, taking me away from Peggy. I'd rather you'd do +something for Lafe. Help him get out of prison. Will you?" + +"I'm not interested in him," said Molly. "But I am in you----" + +"Why?" blurted Jinnie. + +Molly colored. + +"One can't explain an interest like mine. But I'd go back to Mottville +with you, and help you with your----" + +Jinnie shook her head violently. + +"I wouldn't go there for anything in the world," she interjected. + +"I can't understand why not!" + +"Well, first I couldn't, and I won't.... Then Peggy needs me in +Paradise Road, and there's the baby and Bobbie." + +"Who's Bobbie?" + +"Our little kid," replied Jinnie, smiling sweetly. + +She did not think it necessary to explain that she had found Bobbie in +the woods. He was as much one of them as Lafe's baby or herself. +Neither did she speak of the boy's pitiful condition. + +In spite of Jinnie's absolute refusal, Molly went on: + +"But you don't understand. You've got your own life to think of!" + +Jinnie burst in with what she thought was a clinching triumph. + +"I take lessons on my fiddle every day. Some time I hope----" + +Molly's eyes gleamed again. + +"How can you afford to take lessons?" + +The questioner read the truth in the burning blush that swept the +girl's dark hair line, and her little white teeth came together. + +"Mr. Grandoken is not your uncle," she snapped. + +"He's more'n my uncle; he's a father to me, and when he comes +home----" + +"He's not coming home. Murderers don't get off so easily." + +Jinnie got up and again picked her fiddle from the floor. + +"He isn't a murderer!" she stammered, with filling eyes. "Lafe +wouldn't kill anything.... I've been with him almost three years and I +know. Why, he wouldn't let Peg or me swat flies." + +Miss Merriweather saw her mistake. She realized then as never before +that nothing could take from the girl her belief in the cobbler. + +"Sit down," she urged. "Don't go yet." + +"I don't want to sit down," said Jinnie, very much offended. "I'm +going! I'm sorry you think Lafe----" + +Molly rose too. Impetuously she held out her hand. + +"I really shouldn't have spoken that way, because I don't know a thing +about it." + +Jinnie relented a little, but not enough to sit down. She was too +deeply hurt to accept Molly's hospitality further. + +"And we musn't quarrel, child," decided the woman. "Now won't you +reconsider my proposition? I should love to do something for you." + +Resolutely the dark curls shook in refusal. + +"I'm going to stay with Peggy till Lafe gets out, and then when I'm +eighteen I'm going to school. I've been studying a lot since I left +Mottville.... Why sometimes----" she resumed eagerly, "when we haven't +had enough to eat, Lafe's made me buy a book to study out of, and I +promised him I'd stay with his family till he came back. And----" she +walked to the edge of the porch, turning suddenly, "and he's coming +back, all right," she ended, going down the stairs. + +Molly watched the slim young figure swing out to the road. The girl +didn't look around, and the woman waited until she had disappeared +through the gate. + +"He'll not get out, and you, you little upstart," she gritted, "you'll +not stay in Paradise Road, either." + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +AN APPEAL TO JINNIE'S HEART + + +One afternoon she was on her way home from her lesson when she heard a +voice call, "Miss Grandoken!" She glanced up swiftly, recognizing the +speaker immediately. He had been present that first night she had +played for Theodore's guests, and she remembered vividly her intuitive +dislike of him; but because he was a friend of Theodore's she went +forward eagerly. The man drove his car to the side of the pavement and +bowed. + +"Would you care to be of service to Mr. King?" he asked, smiling. + +Jinnie noticed his dazzling teeth and scarlet lips. + +"Oh, yes, indeed! I wish I might." + +"Then come with me," replied the man. "Will you?" + +Without fear she entered the open car door and sat down, placing her +violin on the seat beside her. She sank back with a sigh. The time had +come she had so longed for; she was going to do something for +Theodore. She was glad now she had consented to take two lessons that +day, or she would have missed this blessed opportunity to show her +gratitude to her dear one, in acts, as well as words. The car turned +and sped up the hill. + +If Jinnie wondered where the man was taking her, she did not allude to +it. They were driving in the same direction she took every day to +visit the master, and the very familiarity of it turned aside any +question that arose in her mind. As he helped her from the machine, +she looked up at the sombre building in front of them. In passing it +daily she had often wondered what it was and if any one lived within +its vast stone walls. One hasty glance, as she was being ushered in, +showed paint pails, brushes, and long ropes fastened from the roof to +broad planks below. + +"Miss Merriweather will be here very soon," the man explained +good-naturedly. "She wants you to go with her to the hospital." + +Jinnie's mind flew to that one time she had visited Theodore's sick +bed. She would be glad to see Molly the Merry. + +She had forgiven all the woman's cruelty. + +The long flights of stairs they mounted were dark and uncarpeted. +Their footsteps made a hollow sound through the wide corridors, and +there was no other sign of human life about the place. But still +Jinnie followed the man in front of her, up and up, until she had +counted five floors. Then he took a key from his pocket and put it in +the lock, turning it with a click. + +Jinnie waited until, stepping inside, he turned and smilingly bade her +enter. There was so little natural suspicion in the girl's heart that +she never questioned the propriety, much less the safety, of coming +into a strange place with an unknown man. Her dear one was ill. She +was anxious to see him again, to help him if possible. She felt a +little shy at the thought of seeing Miss Merriweather once more. The +man led her to an inner room and suavely waved to a chair, asking her +to be seated. Casting anxious eyes about the place, she obeyed. + +"I'm going after Miss Merriweather now, if you'll wait a few moments," +explained the stranger. "She wasn't ready and asked me to bring you +first. I think she's preparing a surprise for Mr. King." + +Jinnie's tender little heart warmed toward Molly the Merry. Just then +she had untold gratitude for the woman who was allowing her to take +Theodore something with her own hands. Oh, what joy! + +She smiled back at the speaker as he moved toward the door. Then he +left her, asking her politely to make herself at home until he +returned. + +Jinnie waited and waited until she thought she couldn't possibly wait +any longer. Peg would be worried, terribly worried, and little Bobbie +wouldn't eat his supper without her. But because of Miss +Merriweather's kindness and her own great desire to see her +sweetheart, she must stay until the last moment. She grew tired, stiff +with sitting, and the little clock on the mantel told her she'd been +there over two hours. She got up and went to the window. The building +stood high on a large wooded bluff overlooking a deep gorge. The +landscape before her interested her exceedingly, and took her in fancy +to the wilderness of Mottville. The busy birds fluttered to and fro, +twittering sleepily to each other, and for a short time the watcher +forgot her anxiety in the majesty of the scene. + +Miles of hills and miles and miles of water stretched northward as far +as her eyes could discern anything. The same water passed and repassed +the old farmhouse, and for some time Jinnie tried to locate some +familiar spot, off where the sky dipped to the lake. It wasn't until +she noticed the hands of the clock pointed to half past six that she +became terribly nervous. + +She wanted to go to the hospital and get back to Peg. Mrs. Grandoken +couldn't leave the baby with Blind Bobbie, and there was supper to +buy. Once more she paced the rooms, then back to the window. She +shivered for some unknown reason, and a sharp consciousness of evil +suddenly grew out of the lengthening hours. With the gathering dusk +the hills and gorge had fallen into voiceless silence, and because her +nerves tingled with vague fear, Jinnie drew the curtains to shut out +the yawning dark, and lighted a lamp on the table. + +The room was arranged simply with a small divan, at the head of which +was a pillow. Jinnie sat down and leaned back. Her face held a look of +serious attention. She wondered if anything had happened to Molly the +Merry. Then abruptly she decided to go downstairs. If they weren't +coming, she'd _have_ to go home. She went to the door and, turning the +knob, pulled hard. The door was locked, and the key was gone! Her +discovery seemed to unmake her life in a twinkling. She was like one +stricken with death--pale, cold and shivering. She did not know what +she was going to do, but she must act--she must do something! A round +of inspection showed her she could not open one of the doors. The +windows, too, had several nails driven into their tops and along the +sides, and the doors were securely fastened with keys. She went back +to the window, raised the curtains, and looked out into the gloom. +There was not another light to be seen. + +The clock on the mantel had struck nine, and Jinnie had grown so +horrified she dared not sit down. Many a time she went to the door and +pressed her ear to it, but no sound came through the deep silence. + +It was after eleven when she dropped on the divan and drew the +coverlet over her. The next she knew, daylight was streaming in upon +her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +JINNIE'S PLEA + + +Jinnie sprang up, unable at first to remember where she was. Then it +all came to her. She was locked away from the world in a big house +overlooking the gorge. However, the morning brought a clear sun, +dissipating some of her fear--filling her with greater hope. + +The dreadful dreams during the night had been but dreams of fear and +pain--of eternal separation from her loved ones. Such dreams, such +fears, were foolish! No one could take her away from Peggy. She +wouldn't go! Ah, the man would return very soon with Molly the Merry. + +The clock struck eight. What would Blind Bobbie think--and Peggy? The +woman might decide she had left her forever; but no, no, Peg couldn't +think that! + +Childlike, she was hungry. If some one had intentionally imprisoned +her, they must have left her something to eat. Investigation brought +forth some cold meat, a bottle of milk, and some bread. Jinnie ate all +she could swallow. Then for an hour and a half she paced up and down, +wishing something would happen, some one would come. Anything would be +better than such deadly uncertainty. + +Perhaps it was the overwhelming stillness of the building, possibly a +natural alertness indicative of her fear, that allowed Jinnie to catch +the echoes of footsteps at the farther end of the corridor. But before +she got to the door, a key grated in the lock, and the man who had +brought her there was standing beside her. Their eyes met in a +clinging, challenging glance--the blue of the one clashing with the +sinister grey, as steel strikes fire from steel. An insolent smile +broke over his face and he asked nonchalantly: + +"Did you find the food?" + +Jinnie did not answer. She stood contemplating his face. How she hated +his smile, his white teeth, and his easy, suave manner. Their glances +battled again for a moment across the distance. + +"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded abruptly. + +He spread his feet outward and hummed, toying the while with a smooth +white chin. + +"Sit down," said he, with assumed politeness. + +Jinnie stared at him with contemptuous dread in her eyes. + +"I don't want to; I want to know why I'm here." + +"Can't you guess?" asked the stranger with an easy shrug. + +"No," said Jinnie. "Why?" + +"And you can't guess who I am?" + +"No," repeated Jinnie once more, passionately, "and I want to know why +I'm here." + +He came toward her, piercing her face with a pair of compelling, +mesmeric eyes that made her stagger back to the wall. Then he advanced +a step nearer, covering the space Jinnie had yielded. + +"I'm Jordan Morse," he then said, clipping his words off shortly. + +If a gun had burst in Jinnie's face, she could have been no more +alarmed. She was frozen to silence, and every former fear her father +had given life to almost three years before, beset her once more, only +with many times the amount of vigor. Nevertheless, she gave back look +for look, challenge for challenge, while her fingers locked and +interlocked. Her uncle, who had sent her father to his grave, the man +who wanted her money, who desired her own death! + +Then her eyes slowly took on a tragic expression. She knew then she +was destined to encounter the tragedy of Morse's terrific vengeance, +and no longer wondered why her father had succumbed to his force. He +stood looking at her, his gaze taking in the young form avidiously. + +"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," he averred presently. + +Jinnie's blue eyes narrowed angrily. However, in spite of her rage, +she was terribly frightened. An instinct of self-preservation told her +to put on a bold, aggressive front. + +"Give me that key and let me go," she insisted, with an upward toss of +her head. + +She walked to the door and shook it vigorously. Morse followed her and +brought her brutally back to the center of the room. + +"Not so fast," he grated. "Don't ever do that again! I've been hunting +you for almost three years.... Sit down, I said." + +"I won't!" cried Jinnie, recklessly. "I won't! You can't keep me here. +My friends'll find me." + +The man hazarded a laugh. + +"What friends?" he queried. + +Jinnie thought quickly. What friends? She had no friends just then, +and because she knew she was dependent upon him for her very life, she +listened in despair as he threw a truth at her. + +"The only friends you have're out of business! Lafe Grandoken will be +electrocuted for murder----" + +The hateful thing he had just said and the insistence in it maddened +her. She covered her face with her hands and uttered a low cry. + +"And Theodore King is in the hospital," went on Morse, mercilessly. +"It'll do no good for you to remember him." + +She was too normally alive not to express the loving heart outraged +within her. + +"I shall love him as long as I live," she shivered between her +fingers. + +"Hell of a lot of good it'll do you," grunted the man coarsely. + +Keen anxiety empowered her to raise an anguished face. + +"You want my money----" she hesitated. "Well, you can have it.... You +want it, don't you?" + +Her girlish helplessness made Morse feel that he was without heart or +dignity, but he thought of his little boy and of how this girl was +keeping from him the means to institute a search for the child, and +his desire for vengeance kindled to glowing fires of hate. He +remembered that, steadily of late, he had grown to detest the whole +child-world because of his own sorrow, and nodded acquiescence, +supplementing the nod with a harsh: + +"And, by God, I'm going to have it, too!" + +"Then let me go back to Lafe's shop. I'll give you every cent I +have.... I won't even ask for a dollar." + +It took some time for Morse to digest this idea; then he slowly shook +his head. + +"You wouldn't be allowed to give me what would be mine----" + +"If I die," breathed Jinnie, shocked. She had read his thought and +blurted it forth. + +"Yes, if you die. But I haven't any desire to kill you.... I have +another way." + +"What way? Oh, tell me!" + +"Not now," drawled Morse. "Later perhaps." + +The man contemplated the tips of his boots a minute. Then he looked at +her, the meditative expression still in his eyes. + +"To save your friends," he said at length, "you've got to do what I +want you to." + +"You mean--to save Lafe?" gasped Jinnie, eagerly. + +Morse gave a negative gesture. + +"No, not him. The cobbler's got to go. _He knows too much about me._" + +Jinnie thought of Lafe, who loved and helped everybody within helping +distance, of his wonderful faith and patience, of the day they had +arrested him, and his last words. + +She could not plan for herself nor think of her danger, only of the +cobbler, her friend,----the man who had taken her, a little forlorn +fugitive, when she had possessed no home of her own--he who had taught +her about the angels and the tenderness of Jesus. From her uncle's +last statement she had received an impression that he knew who had +fired those shots. He could have Lafe released if he would. She would +beg for the cobbler's life, beg as she had never begged before. + +"Please, please, listen," she implored, throwing out her hands. "You +must! You must! Lafe's always been so good. Won't you let him live?... +I'll tell him about your wanting the money.... You shall have it! I'll +make any promise for him you want me to, and he'll keep it.... He +didn't kill Maudlin Bates, and I believe you know who did." + +Morse lowered his lids until his eyes looked like grey slits across +his face. + +"Supposing I do," he taunted. "As I've said, Grandoken knows too much +about me. He won't be the first one I've put out of my way." + +He said this emphatically; he would teach her he was not to be +thwarted; that when he desired anything, Heaven and earth, +figuratively speaking, would have to move. He frowned darkly at her as +Jinnie cut in swiftly: + +"You killed my father. He told me you did." + +Morse flicked an ash from a cigar he had lighted, and his eyes grew +hard, like rocks in a cold, gray dawn. + +"So you know all my little indiscretions, eh?" he gritted. "Then don't +you see I can't give you--your liberty?" + +Liberty! What did he mean by taking her liberty away? She asked him +with beating heart. + +"Just this, my dear child," he advanced mockingly. "There are places +where people're taken care of and--the world thinks them dead. In +fact, your father had a taste of what I can do. Only he happened +to----" + +"Did you put him somewhere?" + +"Yes." + +"Where?" + +"Same kind of a place I'm going to put you----" He hesitated a moment +and ended, "A mad house!" + +"Did you let him come home to me?" + +"Not I. Damn the careless keepers! He skipped out one day, and I +didn't know until he'd a good start of me. I followed as soon as +possible, but you were gone. Now--now--then, to find _such_ a place +for you!" + +Jinnie's imagination called up the loathsome thing he mentioned and +terrified her to numbness. At that moment she understood what her +father had written in that sealed letter to Lafe Grandoken. + +But she couldn't allow her mind to dwell upon his threat against +herself. + +"What'd you mean when you said I could save my friends?" + +"You're fond of Mrs. Grandoken, aren't you?" + +Jinnie nodded, trying to swallow a lump in her throat. + +"And--and there's a--a--blind child too--who could be hurt easily." + +Jinnie's living world reeled before her eyes. During this speech she +had lost every vestige of color. She sprang toward him and her fingers +went blue-white from the force of her grip on his arm. + +"Oh, you couldn't, you wouldn't hurt poor little Bobbie?" she cried +hysterically. "He can't see and he's sick, terribly ill all the time. +I'll do anything you say--anything to help 'em." + +Then she fell to the floor, groveling at his feet. + +"Get up! You needn't cry; things'll be easy enough for you if you do +exactly as I tell you. The first order I give you is to stay here +quietly until I come again." + +As he spoke, he lifted her up, and she stood swaying pitiably. + +"Can't I let Peg know where I am?" she entreated when she could speak. +"Please! Please!" + +"I should think not," scoffed Morse. Then, after a moment's +consideration, he went on, "You might write her a note, if you say +what I dictate. I'll have it mailed from another town. I don't want +any one to know you're still in Bellaire." + +"Could I send her a little money, too?" she asked. + +"Yes," replied Morse. + +"Then tell me what to write, and I will." + +After he had gone and Jinnie was once more alone, she sat at the +window, her eyes roving over the landscape. Her gaze wandered in +melancholy sadness to the shadowy summit of the distant hills, in +which the wild things of nature lived in freedom, as she herself had +lived with Lafe Grandoken in Paradise Road, long before her uncle's +menacing shadow had crossed her life. Then her eyes lowered to the +rock-rimmed gorge, majestic in its eternal solitude. She was on the +brink of some terrible disaster. She knew enough of her uncle's +character to realize that. She spent the entire day without even +looking at her beloved fiddle, and after the night closed in, she lay +down, thoroughly exhausted. + +Peggy took a letter from the postman's hand mechanically, but when she +saw the well-known writing, she trembled so she nearly dropped the +missive from her fingers. She went into the shop, where Bobbie lay +face downward on the floor. At her entrance, he lifted a white face. + +"Has Jinnie come yet?" he asked faintly. + +"No," said Peg, studying the postmark of the letter. Then she opened +it. A five-dollar bill fell into her lap, and she thrust it into her +bosom with a sigh. + + * * * * * + +"PEGGY DARLING," she read with misty eyes. + +"I've had to go away for a little while. Don't worry. Here's some +money. Use it and I'll send more. Kiss Bobbie for me and tell him +Jinnie'll come back soon. And the baby, oh, Peggy, hug him until he +can't be hugged any more. Don't tell Lafe I'm away. + + "With all my love, + "JINNIE." + + * * * * * + +Peggy put down the letter. + +"Bobbie!" she said. + +The boy looked up. "I ain't got any stars, Peggy," he wailed +tragically. "I want Jinnie and Lafe." + +"I've got a letter from Jinnie here," announced Peggy. + +The boy got to his feet instantly. + +"When she's comin' back?" + +"She don't say, but she sends a lot of kisses and love to you. She had +to go away for a few days.... Now don't snivel!... Come here an' I'll +give you the kisses she sent." + +He nestled contentedly in Peggy's arms. + +"Let me feel the letter," came a faltering whisper presently. + +Bobbie ran his fingers over the paper, trying with sensitive finger +tips to follow the ink traces. + +"Can I keep it a little while?" he begged.... "Please, Peggy!" + +"Sure," said Peg, putting him down, and when the baby cried, Mrs. +Grandoken left the blind child hugging Happy Pete, with Jinnie's +letter flattened across his chest between him and the dog. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +BOBBIE TAKES A TRIP + + +Jinnie had been gone two weeks. Nearly every day the postman brought a +letter from the girl to Peggy, and after reading it several times to +herself, she gave it to Blind Bobbie. Mrs. Grandoken had discovered +this was the way to keep him quiet. + +One afternoon the boy sat on the front steps of the cobbler's shop, +sunning himself. + +"You can hear Jinnie better when she comes," said Peg, as an excuse to +coax him out of doors. "Now sit there till I get back from the +market." + +Bobbie had Happy Pete in his arms when he heard strange footsteps +walking down the short flight of steps. He lifted his head as he heard +a voice speak his name. + +"Bobbie," it said softly. "Are you Bobbie?" + +"Yes," replied the boy tremblingly. + +The soft voice spoke again. "Do you want to see Jinnie?" + +Bobbie clutched Happy Pete with one arm and struggled up, holding out +a set of slender fingers that shook like small reeds in a storm. + +"Yes, I want to see 'er," he breathed. "Do you know where she is?" + +"If you'll come along with me, I'll take you to her. Bring the dog if +you like." + +"I want to see her to-day," stated Bobbie. + +Jordan Morse took Bobbie's hand in his. + +"Come on then, and don't make a noise," cautioned the man. "Put down +the dog; he'll follow you." + +Once in Paradise Road, he stooped and lifted the slight boyish figure +and walked quickly away. Beyond the turn in the road stood his car. He +placed Bobbie and the dog on the seat beside him, and in another +moment they were speeding toward the hill. + +At that moment Jinnie was brooding over her violin. Her fiddle was her +only comfort in the lonely hours. The plaintive tones she drew from it +were the only sounds she heard, save the rushing water in the gorge +and the thrashing of the trees when the wind blew. The minutes hung +long on her hands, and the hours seemed to mock her as they dragged +along in interminable sequence. With her face toward the window, she +passed several hours composing a piece which had been in embryo in her +heart for a long time. The solitude, the grandeur of the scenery, the +wonderful lake with its curves and turns, sometimes made her forget +the tragic future that lay before her. + +She was just finishing with lingering, tender notes when Jordan Morse +came quickly through the corridor. + +Bobbie stiffened in his arms suddenly. + +"I hear Jinnie's fiddle," he gasped. "I'm goin' to my Jinnie." + +When the key turned in the lock, the girl came to the door. At first +she didn't notice the blind child, but her name, unsteadily called, +brought her eyes to the little figure. Happy Pete recognized her with +a wild yelp, wriggled himself past the other two, and whiningly +crouched at her feet. Jinnie had them both in her arms before Morse +turned the key again in the lock. + +"Bobbie and Happy Pete!" she cried. Then she got up and flashed +tearful eyes upon Morse. + +"What did you bring them for? Did you tell Peg?" + +"No, I didn't tell Peg and--and I brought him----" he paused and +beckoned her with an upward toss of his chin. + +Jinnie followed him agitatedly. + +"I brought him," went on Morse, "because I don't just like your +manner. I brought him as a lever to move you with, miss." + +Then he left hurriedly, something unknown within him stirring with +life. He decided afterward it was the sight of the blind child's +golden head pressed against Jinnie's breast that had so upset him. + +As he drove away, he crushed a desire to return again, to take them +both, boy and girl, back to the cobbler's shop. But he must not allow +his better emotions to attack him in this matter. He had known for a +long time Jinnie could be wielded through her affection for the lad. +He thought of his own child somewhere in the world and what it meant +to him to possess Jinnie's money, and set his teeth. He would bring +the girl to his terms through her love for the slender blind boy. + +That day Jinnie wrote a letter to Peg, telling her that Bobbie was +with her, and Happy Pete, too. + +The stolid woman had quite given way under the mysterious +disappearance of the boy. When she returned home, she searched every +lane leading to the marshes until dusk. In fact, she stumbled far into +the great waste place, calling his name over and over. He was the last +link that held her to the days when Lafe had been in the shop, and Peg +would have given much if her conscience would cease lashing her so +relentlessly. It eased her anxiety a little when a new resolution was +born in her stubborn heart. If they all came back to the shop, she'd +make up to them in some way for her ugly conduct. With this resolve, +she went home to her own baby, sorrowful, dejected and lonely. + +All the evening while Peg was mourning for them, Jinnie sat cuddling +Bobbie, until the night put its dark hood on the ravine and closed it +in a heavy gloom. Happy Pete, with wagging tail, leaned against the +knees of the girl, and there the three of them remained in silence +until Bobbie, lifting his face, said quiveringly: + +"Peggy almost died when you went away, Jinnie." + +Jinnie felt her throat throb. + +"Tell me about it," she said hoarsely. + +"There ain't much to tell," replied the child, sighing, "only Peggy +was lonely. She only had me and the baby, and I didn't have any stars +and the baby's got no teeth." + +"And the baby? Is he well, dear?" questioned Jinnie. + +"Oh, fine!" the boy assured her. "He's growed such a lot. I felt his +face this morning, and oh, my, Jinnie, his cheeks puff out like +this!" + +Bobbie gathered in a long breath, and puffed out his own thin, drawn +cheeks. + +"Just like that!" he gasped, letting out the air. + +"And Lafe?" ventured Jinnie. + +"Lafe's awful bad off, I guess. Bates' little boy told me he was going +to die----" + +"No, Bobbie, no, he isn't!" Jinnie's voice was sharp in protestation. + +"Yes, he is!" insisted Bobbie. "Bates' boy told me so! He said Lafe +wouldn't ever come back to the shop, 'cause everybody says he killed +Maudlin." + +As the words left his lips, he began to sob. "I want my cobbler," he +screamed loudly, "and I want my beautiful stars!" + +"Bobbie, Bobbie, you'll be sick if you scream that way. There, there, +honey!" Jinnie hushed him gently. + +"I want to be 'Happy in Spite'," the boy went on. But his words +brought before the pale girl that old, old memory of the cobbler who +had invented the club for just such purposes as this. How could she be +'Happy in Spite' when Bobbie suffered; when Peg and baby Lafe needed +her; happy when Lafe faced an ignominious death for a crime he had not +committed; happy when her beloved was perhaps still very ill in the +hospital? She got up and began to walk to and fro. Suddenly she paused +in her even march across the room. Unless she steadied her fluttering, +stinging nerves, she'd never be able to still the wretched boy. +There's an old saying that when one tries to help others, winged aid +will come to the helper. And so it was with Jinnie. She had only again +taken Bobbie close when there came to her Lafe's old, old words: "He +hath given his angels charge over thee." + +"Bobbie," she said softly, "I'm going to play for you." + +As Jinnie straightened his limp little body out on the divan, she +noticed how very thin he had become, how his heart throbbed +continually, how the agonized lines drew and pursed the sensitive, +delicate mouth. + +Then she played and played and played, and ever in her heart to the +rhythm of her music were the words, "His angels shall have charge over +thee." Suddenly there came to her a great belief that out of her faith +and Lafe's faith would come Bobbie's good, and Peg's good, and +especially the good of the man shut up in the little cell. When the +boy grew sleepy, Jinnie made him ready for bed. + +"I'll lie down with you, Bobbie," she whispered, "and Happy Pete can +sleep on the foot of the bed." + +And as the pair of sad little souls slept, Lafe's angels kept guard +over them. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +THEODORE SENDS FOR MOLLY + + +Theodore King was rallying rapidly in the hospital. All danger of +blood poison had passed, and though he was still very weak, his +surgeon had ceased to worry, and the public at large sat back with a +sigh, satisfied that the wealthiest and most promising young citizen +in the county had escaped death at the hand of an assassin. + +One morning a telephone message summoned Molly Merriweather to the +hospital. In extreme agitation she dressed quickly, telling Mrs. King +she would return very soon. Never had she been so hilariously happy. +Jinnie Grandoken had disappeared, as if she had been sunk in the sea. +Molly now held the whip hand over her husband; she could force him to +divorce her quietly. It was true of them both now their principal +enemies were out of the way. Theo was getting well, and would come +home in a few days. + +While she had thought him dying, nothing save Jordan's tales of the +girl's experiences in the gorge house had been able to rouse her to +more than momentary interest. + +With glowing cheeks she followed the hospital attendant through a long +corridor to Theodore's room. She entered softly and for a moment stood +gazing at him admiringly. How very handsome he was, even with the +hospital pallor! When the sick man became cognizant of Molly's +presence, he turned and smiled a greeting. He indicated a chair, and +she sank into it. + +"You sent for me, Theodore?" she reminded him softly, bending +forward. + +"Yes." + +He was silent so long, evidently making up his mind to something, that +Molly got up and smoothed out his pillow. Theodore turned to her after +she had reseated herself. + +"Molly," he began, "do you know where Jinnie Grandoken is?" + +Molly's eyelids narrowed. So he was still thinking of the girl! + +"No," she said deliberately. + +"It seems strange," went on King somberly. "I've tried every way I +know how to discover her whereabouts, and can't. I sent to the +Grandoken's for her, but she was gone." + +"You still care for her then?" queried Molly dully. + +"Yes. I know you dislike the poor child, but I thought if you knew +that I--well, I really love her, you might help me, Molly." + +It was a bitter harvest to reap after all these weeks of waiting--his +telling her he loved another woman--and as his voice rang with +devotion for Jinnie Grandoken, Molly restrained herself with +difficulty. She dared not lose her temper, as she had several times +before under like conditions. With her hands folded gracefully in her +lap, she replied: + +"If I could help you, Theo, I would; but if Mrs. Grandoken doesn't +know where her own niece is, how should I know?" + +"You're so clever," sighed Theodore, "I imagined you might be able to +discover something where a woman like Mrs. Grandoken would fail. She's +got a young child, I hear." + +"What do you suggest?" inquired Molly presently. + +"I want to find out quickly where she's gone," the sick man said +bluntly. + +"You want to see her?" demanded Molly. + +Theodore nodded. + +"Yes, I'd get well sooner if I could," and he sighed again. Then his +ivory skin grew scarlet even to his temples, but the blood rushed +away, leaving him deathly white. Molly went to him quickly and leaned +over the bed. She wanted--oh, how she wanted to feel his arms about +her! But he only touched her cold hand lightly. + +"Help me, Molly," he breathed. + +Molly choked back an explanation. She would glory in doing anything +for him--anything within her power; but nothing, nothing for Jinnie +Grandoken. Suddenly an idea took possession of her. She would make him +doubt Jinnie's love for him, even if she lied to him. + +"Of course I knew you cared for her," she said slowly. + +"Yes, I made that clear, I think," said Theo, "and she cares for me. I +told you I asked her to marry me." + +He laid stress on the latter half of his statement because of a +certain emphasis in Molly's. + +"I don't like to hurt you--while you're ill," she ventured. + +Theodore thrust forth his hand eagerly. + +"Come closer," he pleaded. "You know something; you can tell me. +Please do, Molly." + +"I don't know much, mind you, Theo----" + +"Take hold of my hand, Molly!... Please don't keep me in such +suspense." + +She drew her chair closer to the bed, her heart throbbing first with +desire, then with anger, and laid her white fingers in his. + +"Tell me," insisted Mr. King. + +"There was a boy----" + +"You mean the little blind boy?" + +"No, no," denied Molly, paling. The very mention of such an affliction +hurt her sadly. "No," she said again, "I mean a friend of the boy who +was shot; you remember him?" + +"Oh, I remember Maudlin Bates; certainly I do; but I don't think I +heard of any other." + +Molly hadn't either; she had shot at random and the shot told. + +Theodore sat up in bed with whitening face. + +"Molly," he stammered, "Molly, has any one hurt her? Has----" + +Molly shook her head disgustedly. + +"Don't be foolish, Theo," she chided. "No one would want to hurt a +grown girl like her." + +"Then what about the man?" + +"I think she went away with him." + +"Where to?" + +"I'm not sure----" + +Theodore sank back. Molly's fingers slipped from his, and for a moment +he covered his face with his hands, soundless sobs shaking his weak +body. The woman knew by his appearance that he believed her +absolutely. + +"It'll kill me!" he got out at last. + +Molly slipped an arm under his head. She had never seen him in such a +state. + +"Theo, don't! Don't!" she implored. "Please don't shake so, and I'll +tell you all I know." + +"Very well!... I'm listening." + +The words were scarcely audible, but Molly knew and hugged the thought +that his belief in Jinnie Grandoken had been shaken. + +"Did you hear that Jinnie was in Binghamton?" + +"Yes," murmured Theodore. + +The woman released her hold on Theodore, and said: + +"The man was over there with her." + +Theodore turned his face quickly away and groaned. + +"That's enough," he said. "Don't tell me any more." + +They were quiet for a long time--very quiet. + +Then Molly, with still enlarging plans, burst out: + +"What if I should bring her back to you, Theo?" + +He flashed dark-circled eyes toward her. + +"Could you?" he asked drearily. + +"I think so, perhaps. Suppose you write her a little note, and +then----" + +"Ring the bell for writing material quickly." + +He had all his old-time eagerness. He was partly sitting up, and Molly +placed another pillow under his head. + +Theodore wrote steadily for some moments. Then he addressed an +envelope to "Jinnie Grandoken," placed the letter in it, and fastened +down the flap. + +"You won't mind?" he asked wearily, handing it to Molly and sinking +back. + +Molly took the letter, and with a few more words, went out. Once at +home in her bedroom, she sat down, breathing deeply. With a hearty +good will she could have torn the letter into shreds, but instead she +ripped open the envelope and read it. + +After she had finished, she let the paper flutter from her hand and +sat thinking for a long time. Then, sighing, she got up and tucked the +letter inside her dress. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +MOLLY GIVES AN ORDER TO JINNIE + + +A motor car dashed to the side of the street, and Jordan Morse helped +Molly to the pavement. She stood for a moment looking at the gorge +building contemplatively. + +"And she's been here all the while?" she remarked. + +"Yes, and a devil of a time I've had to keep her, too. If there'd been +any one in the whole place, I believe she'd have made them hear; +though since the boy came she's behaved better." Morse's face became +positively brutal under recollections. "I've made her mind through +him," he terminated. + +Jinnie had put Bobbie into bed and kissed him, and soon the child was +breathing evenly. She knew Jordan Morse would come that night, so she +closed the door between the two rooms and walked nervously up and +down. Bobbie was always ill for hours after Morse had made his daily +calls. She hoped the man would allow the child to remain in bed. When +the key grated in the lock, she was standing in the middle of the +room, her eyes fastened on the door. Every time he came, she had hopes +that he might relent, if but a little. + +Morse entered, followed by Molly the Merry. Jinnie took a step forward +when she saw the woman. Molly paused and inspected sharply the slim +young figure, her mind comprehending all its loveliness. Then woman to +woman they measured each other, as only women can. Jinnie advanced +impulsively. + +"You've come to take me home!" she breathed. + +Molly shook her head. + +"I've come to talk to you," she retorted hoarsely. + +Never had she seen so beautiful a girl! The martyrdom Jinnie had +endured had only enhanced her attractiveness. + +"Sit down," said Molly peevishly. + +Jinnie made a negative gesture. + +"I'm tired of sitting.... Oh, you will do something for me, something +for poor little Bobbie?" + +Morse moved to the door between the two rooms, but Jinnie rushed in +front of him. + +"He's asleep," she said beseechingly. "Don't wake him up! He's had a +dreadful spell with his heart to-day." + +Morse turned inquiring eyes upon Molly. + +"You wanted to see him, didn't you?" he asked. + +Molly flung out a hand pettishly. + +"Let him sleep," she replied. "I don't want to be bored with fits and +tears." + +Jinnie sank into a chair. + +"He ought to have a doctor," she sighed, as if she were speaking to +herself. Then turning to Molly, she bent an entreating look upon her. + +"Please do something for him. Get a doctor, oh, do! He's so little and +so sick." + +"I'm not a bit interested in him," replied Molly with a shrug. + +Jinnie's nerves had borne all they could. She trembled unceasingly. +The girlish spirit had been broken by Morse's continual persecution. + +"He's so little," she petitioned again, "and he can't live long." + +As Molly had said, she was not interested in the sleeping child. The +only time she cared to hear him mentioned was when Jordan told her of +Jinnie's anguish over his treatment of the child. She had delighted +in his vividly described scene of how he had forced the girl to do his +will through her love for the little fellow. Now she, too, would wreak +her vengeance on Jinnie through the same source. + +"I've come to tell you something about Theodore King," she remarked +slowly, watching the girl avidly the while. + +Jinnie sat up quickly. If her dear one had sent her a message, then he +must know where she was. + +"Then tell it," was all she said. + +Molly put her hand into a leather hand bag and drew forth a letter. + +"It isn't for you," she stated, with glinting eyes. "I've known for a +long time you thought he cared for you----" + +"He does," interjected Jinnie emphatically. + +"I think not. Here's a letter he wrote to me. It will dispel any idea +you may have about his affection for you." + +"I don't wish to read your letter," said Jinnie proudly. + +"Read it!" ordered Morse frowning, and because she feared him, Jinnie +took the letter nervously. The woman's words had shattered her last +hope. For a moment the well-known handwriting whirled; then the words +came clearly before her vision: + + * * * * * + +"MY DARLING," she read. + +"Won't you come to me when you get this? My heart aches to have you +once more in my arms. I shall expect you very soon. With all my love, + + "THEODORE." + + * * * * * + +It was not strange that she crushed the paper between her fingers. + +"You needn't destroy my letter," Molly said mockingly, thrusting forth +her hand. "Give it to me." + +She took it from Jinnie's shaking hand and, smoothing it out, replaced +it in her pocket book. + +"I wouldn't have come but for your own good," she said, looking up. +"Mr. Morse told me you had an idea that Mr. King loved you, and I want +you to write him a letter----" + +"Write who a letter?" asked Jinnie dully. + +"Theodore." + +"Why?" + +"Because I tell you to," snapped Molly. + +Then taking another letter from her bag, she held it out. + +"You're to copy this and give it to Mr. Morse to-morrow." + +Jinnie took the letter and read it slowly. She struggled to her feet. + +"I'll not write it," she said hoarsely. + +"I think you will," said Morse, rising. + +Jinnie stared at him until he reached the closed door behind which +Bobbie slept. + +"Don't! Don't!" she shuddered. "I'll write, I'll do anything if you +won't hurt Bobbie." Raising her eyes to Morse, she said in subdued +tones, "I'll try to give it to you to-morrow." + +Never had her heart ached as it did then. The perils she was passing +through and had passed through were naught to the present misery. She +realized then her hope had been in Theodore's rescuing her. + +A certain new dignity, however, grew upon her at that moment. She +stood up, looking very tall, very slight, to the man and woman +watching her. + +"I wish you'd both go," she said wearily. "I'd rather be alone with +Bobbie." + +Molly smiled and went out with Jordan Morse. + +"She gave in all right," remarked Molly, when they were riding down +the hill. "I knew she would." + +Morse shrugged his shoulders. + +"Of course. She worships Grandoken's youngster.... I was wondering +there once how you felt when you knew she was reading her own +letter." + +Molly's face grew dark with passionate rebellion. + +"He'll write me one of my own before the year is out," said she. + +"I'm not so sure!" responded Morse thoughtfully. + +For a long time after the closing of the door, Jinnie sat huddled in +the chair. Nothing else in all the world could have hurt her as she +had been hurt that night, and it wasn't until very late that she crept +in beside the blind boy, and after four or five hours, dropped +asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +WRITING A LETTER TO THEODORE + + +The first thing Jinnie saw the next morning was the rough draft of the +letter Molly had ordered her to copy. To send it to Theodore was +asking more of her than she could bear. She turned and looked at +Bobbie. He was still sleeping his troubled, short-breathed sleep. She +had shielded him with her life, with her liberty. Now he demanded, in +that helpless, babyish, blind way of his, that she repudiate her +love. + +In the loneliness of the gorge house she had become used to the idea +of never again seeing Theodore, but to allow him to think the false +thing in that letter was dreadful. She picked it up and glanced it +over once more, then dropped it as if the paper had scorched her +fingers. She'd die rather than send it, and she would tell her uncle +so when he came that morning. + +She was very quiet, more than usually so, when she gave the blind boy +his breakfast. + +"Bobbie," she said, "you know I'd do anything for you in this whole +world, don't you? I mean--I mean anything I could?" + +Mystified, the boy bobbed his curly head. + +"Sure I do, Jinnie, and I'd do anything for you too, honey." + +She kissed him passionately, as her eyes sought the letter once more. +It lay on the floor, the words gleaming up at her in sinister +mockery. She tore her eyes from it, shaking in dread. Would she have +the courage to stand against Jordan Morse in this one thing? She had +given in to him at every point, but this time she intended to stand +firmly upon the rock of her love. Once more she picked up the letter +and put it away. + +Two hours later, with loathing and disgust depicted in her white face, +she saw Mr. Morse enter, and her blazing blue eyes stabbed the man's +anger to the point of desiring to do her harm. For a moment he +contemplated her in silence. He was going to have trouble with her +that day. What a fool Molly was! It was she who insisted upon that +bally letter. What did he care about Theodore King? Still his wife had +him completely within her power, and he was really afraid of her now +and then when she flew into rages about his niece and Theodore. He +mopped his brow nervously. + +A few days more and it would be ended. Inside of one week he would be +free from every element which threatened him, free to commence the +search for his child. He strode across the room to Jinnie. + +"Come on with me," he ordered under his breath. + +Jinnie obediently followed him into the inner room. Morse slammed the +door with his foot. + +"Where's the letter?" he growled between his teeth. + +Jinnie went to the table, got the original draft and handed it over. + +"Here it is," she said slowly. + +He glanced over the paper. + +"Why, this is the one we left here yesterday, isn't it?" + +"Yes!" + +"Where is the one you wrote? I don't want this." + +A glint of understanding flashed upon him. + +"Where is the other?" he demanded once more. + +"I haven't written it and I don't intend to." + +For one single instant Morse's mind swept over the sacrifices she had +made. She had done every single thing he had told her, not for her +sake but for others. He shuddered when he thought of the trouble he +would have had with her had not the blind boy been within his power +also. + +"Get the paper and write it now," he said ominously. + +"I will not!" + +She meant the words, a righteous indignation flaming her face, making +her eyes shine no longer blue, but opal color. Morse wondered dully if +she could and would stand out against what he would be forced to do. + +"I see," he began shiftily. "I have to teach you a lesson every time I +come here, eh?" + +"This time you won't," she flashed at him. + +"This time I will," he taunted. + +"I'd rather be dead," she faltered. "I'd rather be dead than write +it." + +"Perhaps! But would you rather have----" he made a backward jerk of +his thumb toward the other room--"him dead?" + +Jinnie's eyes misted in agony, but Theodore was still near her in +spirit, and she remembered the dear hours they had spent together and +how much she loved him. A sudden swift passion shook her as his kisses +lived warm again upon her face. That letter she would not write. But +as she made this decision for the hundredth time that day, Morse's +words recurred to her. Would she rather have Bobbie dead? Yes, if she +were dead too. But life was so hard to part with! She was so strong. +How many times she had prayed of late to die! But every morning found +her woefully and more miserably alive than the one before. + +"I understand you'd rather, then," drawled Morse. + +Jinnie shook her head. + +"I don't know what I'd rather have, only I can't write the letter." +She made one rapid step toward him--"I know," she went on feverishly, +"I won't ever see Theodore again----" + +Morse's emphatic nod broke off her words, but she went on +courageously. "I don't expect to, but I love him. Can't you see +that?" + +"Quite evident," replied the man. + +"Why hurt me more than necessary then?" she demanded. + +"This is part of Miss Merri----" + +"She loves him too?" cried Jinnie, staggering back. + +"Yes, and he--well, you saw his letter yesterday." + +"Yes, I saw it," breathed Jinnie with swift coming breath. + +"Miss Merriweather thinks Theodore might still feel his obligations to +you unless you----" + +"Does she know he asked me to marry him?" In spite of her agony, she +thrilled in memory. + +"Yes, and he told me, too. But Miss Merriweather intends to marry him +herself, and all she wants is to wipe thoughts of you from his mind." + +A powerful argument swept from her lips. + +"It wouldn't make any difference to him about me if he loved her." + +"You're an analytical young miss," said Morse with one of his +disagreeable smiles. + +"You've taught me to be," she retorted, blazing. "Now listen! You +asked me if I'd rather have Bobbie die than write the letter, didn't +you?" + +He nodded. + +"Then I say 'yes'." She caught her breath. "We'll both die." + +"Well, by God, you're a cool one! Theodore's more lucky than I +thought. So that's the way you love him?" + +She grew more inexplicable with each passing day. + +"Poor Theodore!" murmured Morse, to break the tense silence. + +"I thought it all out this morning," explained Jinnie. "Bobbie's +awfully ill, terribly. He can't live long anyway, and I----" A +terrific sob shook her as a raging gale rends a slender flower. + +Jinnie controlled her weeping that the blind child in the other room +might not hear. Never had Jordan been so sorely tempted to do a good +deed. Good deeds were not habitual to him, but at that moment a desire +possessed him to take her in his arms, to soothe her, to restore her +to Peggy and give her back to Theodore. But the murder scene in the +cobbler's shop came back with strong renewed vigor. He had gone too +far, and he must have money. Molly held him in her power, and as he +thought of her tightly set lips, the danger signal she had tossed at +him more times than once, he crushed dead his better feeling. + +"Your plan won't work," he said slowly. "Write the letter--I am in a +hurry." + +"I will not," she refused him once more. + +Morse walked to the door, and she allowed him to open it. Then with +clenched hands she tottered after him. He was going to kill Bobbie and +herself. Somehow within her tortured being she was glad. Morse waited +and looked back, asking her a question silently. + +She made no response, however, but cast her eyes upon the blind boy +sitting dejectedly upon the floor, one arm around Happy Pete. + +"Jinnie," said Bobbie, rolling his eyes, "I was afraid you were goin' +to stay in there all day." + +"Come here, boy," ordered Morse. "Get up and come here." + +Bobbie turned his delicate, serious face in the direction of the +voice. + +"I don't want to," he gulped, shaking his head. "I don't like you, +Mister Black Man. I can't get up anyway, my heart hurts too much!" + +Still the girl stood with the vision of Theodore King before her. + +"I won't write it, I won't," she droned to herself insistently. + +Morse sprang forward and grasped the child. + +"Get up," he hissed. + +Bobbie scrambled up because he was made to. He uttered a frightened, +terrified cry. + +Then, "Jinnie!" he gasped. + +Jinnie saw Morse shake the slender little body and drop into a chair, +dragging the child forward. Bobbie could no longer speak. The dazed +girl knew the little heart was beating in its very worst terror. She +couldn't bear the sight and closed her eyes for an instant. When she +opened them, Morse's hand was raised above the boy's golden head, but +she caught it in hers before it descended. + +"I'll do it," she managed to whisper. "Look! Look! You've killed +him." + +In another moment she had Bobbie in her arms, his face pressed against +her breast. + +"Get out of here!" she said, deathly white, to Morse. "I'll do it, +come back to-morrow." + +And Morse was glad to escape. + +After Jinnie brought Bobbie to his senses and he lay like a crumpled +leaf on the divan, she took up the hated letter. She sat down to read +it once more. + +It was short, concise, and to the point. + + * * * * * + +"MR. KING: + +"I made a mistake in ever thinking I cared for you. I have some one +else now I love better, and expect to be very happy with him. + + "JINNIE GRANDOKEN." + + * * * * * + +The next morning when Morse came jauntily in, she handed him the copy +of it without a word. He only said to her: + +"You'd have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you'd done this in the +first place. You won't bother me long now. Mr. King is home and almost +well." Then he smiled, showing his white, even teeth. "He'll be glad +to receive this letter." + +"Get out," Jinnie gritted. "Get out before I--I kill you!" + + * * * * * + +Two days later Molly Merriweather was in the seventh heaven of bliss. +As Morse had said, Theodore was home, looking more like himself. With +her heart in her mouth, the woman entered his sitting room with +Jinnie's letter. Jordan had had it mailed to King from Binghamton. + +"I've brought you a letter, Theodore," smiled Molly nervously. + +He extended his hand, and upon recognizing the handwriting, turned +deadly white. + +"I'd like to be alone," said he without looking up. + +When he sent for her a little while later, and she sat opposite him, +he said: + +"I'd rather not speak of--of--Miss Grandoken again. Will you give me a +drink, Molly?" And the woman noted the hurt look in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +"BUST 'EM OUT" + + +"Jinnie, ain't we ever goin' back to Peggy?" Bobbie asked one day, his +eyes rolling upward. His small face was seamed with questioning +anxiety. + +The girl drew him to her lap. + +How many times Jinnie had asked that question of herself! How she +longed for Paradise Road, with its row of shacks, Peggy and the baby! +Bobby knew how she felt by the way she squeezed his hand. + +"Ain't we?" he asked again. + +"Some time," answered Jinnie limply. + +"Did the black man say we could go, Jinnie?" the boy demanded. + +Jinnie patted his head comfortingly. + +"I hope he'll take us home soon," she remarked, trying to put full +assurance into her tones. + +Bobbie zigzagged back to the divan, drew himself upon it, and Jinnie +knew by his abstracted manner that he was turning the matter over in +his busy little brain. + +Two hours later, when Jordan Morse came in, the child was still +sitting in the same position, and the man beckoned the girl into the +other room. + +"Grandoken's trial is to start this afternoon within an hour," he +informed her. "You'll be here to-day and to-morrow. You see the court +won't be long in proving the cobbler's guilt." + +If he had expected her to cry, he was mistaken. She was past crying, +seemingly having shed all of her tears. + +"He didn't do it," she averred stubbornly. "I know he didn't." + +In justice to Lafe, she always reiterated this. + +Morse gave a sinister laugh. + +"What you know or don't know won't matter," he responded, and looking +at the angry, beautiful face, he ejaculated, "Thank God for that!" + +Jinnie turned her back, but he requested her sharply to look at him. + +"Have you told the boy where I'm going to take you?" he demanded, when +she was eyeing him disdainfully. + +"No." + +"I never knew a woman before who could hold her tongue," he commented +in sarcasm. + +Jinnie didn't heed the compliment. + +"When he asks you questions, what do you tell him?" + +"That you will come for us soon." + +"I will, all right." + +Jinnie went nearer him. + +"Where are you going to take him?" + +Morse shrugged his shoulders. + +"You'll know in time," said he. + +How ominous his words were, and how his eyes narrowed as he looked at +her! She was thoroughly afraid of that tone in his voice. Her own fate +she was sure of, but Bobbie--desperation filled her soul. She would +beg Morse to let him go back to Peggy. + +Lifting clasped hands, she walked very close to him. + +"You're going to have all my money," she said with emphasis. "I've +done everything I can, and I'll make Bobbie promise not to say a word +to any one if you'll take him to Mrs. Grandoken." + +Morse shook his head. + +"Too dangerous," he replied, and he went out without a glance at the +blind boy on the divan. + +Once more alone with Bobbie, Jinnie sat down to think. How could she +rescue him from this awful position? How get him back to Peggy? +Somehow she felt that if she could be sure the little boy was safe, +she could go away to the place Morse had described with at least a +little relief. That day Lafe's accusers were to try him before a +jury----. She had almost lost hope for the cobbler--he was lame, had +no friends, and was a Jew, one of the hated race. She knew how the +people of Bellaire despised the Jews. For Peggy she didn't worry so +much. Jordan Morse had given his solemn promise that, if Lafe died in +the electric chair--and she died to the world--he would be of +financial assistance to Peggy. + +She sat studying Bobbie attentively. The child's face was pathetically +white and she could see the quick palpitation of his heart under his +jacket. + +"I heard what the black man said, Jinnie," Bobbie blurted presently, +sinking in a little heap. "I mean when he had you in the other room a +little while ago. You was beggin' him to help me; wasn't you, +Jinnie?" + +Jinnie went to him quickly and gathered him into her arms. + +"Bobbie," she implored, "you must never let him know, never, never, +that you heard him talking. He might hurt you worse than he has." + +Bobbie flashed his eyes questioningly in evident terror. + +"What'd he hurt me more for? I ain't done nothin' to him." + +"I guess because he's bad, dear," said Jinnie sadly. + +"Then if he's bad, why do you stay here?" He clung to her tremulously. +"Take me away, Jinnie!" + +"I can't!" lamented Jinnie. "I've told you, Bobbie, the door's +locked." + +She could lovingly deceive him no longer. + +How the little body trembled! How the fluttering hands sought her aid +in vain! + +"My stars're all gone, Jinnie," sobbed Bobbie. "My beautiful stars! I +can't see any of 'em if I try. I'm awful 'fraid, honey dear. It's so +dark." + +Jinnie tightened her arms about him, racking her brain for soothing +words. + +"But Lafe's God is above the dark, Bobbie," she whispered reverently. +"We've got to believe it, dearie! God is back up there ... just up +there." + +She took his slender forefinger and pointed upward. + +"How does God look, Jinnie? Just how does he look?" + +"I've never seen him," admitted the girl, "but I think, Bobbie, I +think he looks like Lafe. I know he smiles like him anyway." + +"I'm glad," sighed the boy. "Then He'll help us, won't He? Lafe would +if he could. If you say He will, He will, Jinnie!" + +Five tense minutes passed in silence. Then: "Sure we couldn't get out +of the window, dearie?" asked Bobbie. + +"They're locked, too," answered the girl, low-toned. + +"I'd bust 'em out," volunteered the boy, with sudden enthusiasm. + +"But there's a deep gorge in front of every one, honey," replied +Jinnie sadly. + +Yet Bobbie's words--"bust 'em out"--took hold of her grippingly, and +the thought of leaving that unbearable place was like a tonic to the +frantic girl. She crossed the room rapidly and examined the window +panes. But even if she could break them, as Bobbie suggested, the +water below would receive their bodies, and death would follow. If it +were a street, she might manage. Yet the sight of the flowing water, +the dark depths between the ragged rocks, did not send Bobbie's words, +"bust 'em out," from her mind. If they fell together, the boy would +never be tortured any more. To-morrow Jordan Morse would be in the +courtroom all day. To-morrow----God, dear God! She seemed to hear +Lafe's monotone, "There's always to-morrow, Jinnie." + +She was called upon to think, to act alone in a tragic way. Of course +she would be killed if she jumped into the deep gorge with the child +and Happy Pete. She tried to think, to plan, but after the manner of +all believing sufferers, could only pray. + +Bobbie need fear no evil! "Angels have been given charge over him, and +Bobbie shall not want," Jinnie whispered, her mind spinning around +like a child's top. A sudden faith boomed at the portals of her soul. +What was the use of asking help for Bobbie if she didn't have faith in +an answer? + +To-day would bring forth a plan for to-morrow. To-morrow Bobbie would +be saved from Jordan Morse. To-morrow would end his terror in the +gorge house. To-morrow--she would be eighteen years old! + +"Bobbie," she entreated, going to the child swiftly, "Bobbie, do you +remember any prayers Lafe taught you?" + +The child bobbed his head. + +"Sure," he concurred. "'Now I lay me' and 'Our Father which art in +Heaven.'... I know them, Jinnie." + +"Then sit upon the divan again and say them over and over, and pray +for Lafe, and that you'll get out of here and be happy. You mustn't +tell Mr. Morse if he comes, but I'm going to try to get you out of the +window." + +As she stood in the gathering gloom and peered into the water below, +Jinnie could hear the child lisping his small petitions. + +At that moment a new faith came for herself. Lafe's angels would save +her, too, from Jordan Morse's revenge. + +At ten-thirty the next morning Morse came. With trepidation Jinnie +heard him open the door. He was extremely nervous and stayed only a +few moments. + +"I've got to be in court at eleven," he explained, "and I'll come for +you both about ten this evening. Be ready, you and the boy, and +remember what I told you!" + +When they were alone once more, she sat down beside the blind child +and placed her arm around him. + +"Bobbie, will you do exactly what I tell you?" + +"Sure," responded Bobbie, cheerfully. "Are we goin' home?" + +Without answering him, Jinnie said: + +"Then take Happy Pete and don't move until I get back. Just pray and +pray and pray! That's all." + +Happy Pete snuggled his head under Bobbie's arm and they both sat very +still. The boy scarcely dared to breathe, he was so anxious to please +his Jinnie. + +The farthest window in the inner room door seemed to be the best one +to attack. If Morse surprised her, it would be easier to cover up her +work. With a frantic prayer on her lips, she took off her shoe and +gave the pane of glass one large, resounding blow. It cracked in two, +splinters not only flying into the room, but tumbling into the gorge +below. Then she hastily hammered away every particle of glass from the +frame, and, shoving her shoulders through, looked out and down. The +very air seemed filled with angels. They could and would save her and +Bobbie even in the water--even if they were within the suction of the +falls there, some distance below and beyond. Then her eyes swept over +the side of the building, and she discovered a stone ledge wide enough +for a human being to crawl along. Would she dare try it with her loved +ones? She distinctly remembered seeing a painter's paraphernalia in +the front, and they might be there still! The more she thought, the +greater grew her hope, and with this growing hope came a larger faith. +At least she'd find what was at the end of the building away off there +to the east. + +To-day, yes, now!... She couldn't wait, for her uncle was coming +to-night. It must be now, this minute. She went back to Bobbie. + +"I'm going to try it, darling," she told him, kissing his cheek. "Sit +right here until I get back. Hang to Petey. He might follow me." + +Then cautiously she dragged her body through the hole in the window, +and began to crawl along the stone ledge. The roar of the water on the +rocks below made her dizzy. But over and over did she cry into God's +ever listening ear: + +"He has given--he has given his angels--angels charge over thee." + +Jinnie reached the corner of the building, and looked out over the +city. The ledge extended around the other side of the building, and +she turned the corner and went slowly onward. At the south end she +stopped still, glancing about. + +Only one thing of any value was in the range of her vision. The two +long ropes she had seen long before were still hanging from the roof +and fastened securely to a large plank almost on the ground. It +brought to Jinnie's mind what Lafe had told her,--of Jimmie Malligan +who had been killed, and of how he himself had lost his legs. + +Could she, by means of the rope, save the three precious things back +in that awful room--Bobbie, Happy Pete, and her fiddle? + +To be once more under God's sun with the blue above gave her new +strength. Then she turned and crawled slowly back. + +At the corner she grew faint-hearted. It must have been the gorge +below that made her breath come in catching sobs. But on and on she +went until through the window she could see Bobbie with Happy Pete +asleep in his arms. The child was still muttering over his little +prayers, his blind eyes rolling in bewildered anxiety. + +Jinnie was very white when she sat down beside him. Putting her face +close to his, she brushed his cheek lovingly. + +"Bobbie," she said, touching his hair with her lips, "how much do you +love Jinnie?" + +"More'n all the world," replied Bobbie without hesitation. + +"Then if you love me _that_ much, you'll do just what I tell you." + +"Yes," Bobbie assured her under his breath. + +Jinnie took a towel--she couldn't find a rope--and strapped the violin +to Bobbie's back. + +"I've got to take my fiddle with me, dearie," she explained, "and I +can't carry it because I've got you. You can't carry it because you've +got to hold Happy Pete.... Now, then, come on!" + +Jinnie drew the reluctant, trembling child to his feet and permitted +him to feel around the window-sash; she also held him tightly while he +measured the stone ledge with his fingers. + +"I'm awful 'fraid," he moaned, drooping. + +Jinnie feared he was going to have another fainting spell. To ward it +off, she said firmly: + +"Bobbie, you want to see Lafe, don't you?" + +"S'awful much," groaned Bobbie. + +"Then don't hold your breath." She saw him stagger, and grasping him, +cried out "Breathe, Bobbie, breathe! We're going to Peggy." + +Bobbie began to breathe naturally, and a beatific smile touched the +corners of his lips. + +"I got so many stars to-day, Jinnie," he quavered, "one slipped right +down my throat." + +"But you mustn't be scared again, Bobbie! If we stay, the black man'll +come back and shake you again and take us to some place that'll make +us both sick. You just keep on praying, and I will, too.... Now, then, +I'm going out, and when I say, 'Ready,' you crawl after me." + +"What's that noise?" shivered Bobbie, clutching Happy Pete. + +"It's water," answered Jinnie, "water in the gorge." + +Bobbie's teeth chattered. "Do we have to jump in it?" + +"No, I'm going to take you down a rope." + +With that she crawled through the hole, and when once on the stone +ledge, she put her hand in on the boy's head. + +"Lift up your leg and hang tight to Petey," she shuddered, and the +blind boy did as he was bidden, and Jinnie pulled him, with the dog +and fiddle, through the opening. She put him on his knees in front of +her with her arms tightly about him. + +"Jinnie, Jinnie!" moaned Bobbie. "My heart's jumpin' out of my +mouth!" + +Jinnie pressed her teeth together with all her might and main, +shivering so in terror that she almost lost the strength of her arms. + +"Don't think about your heart," she implored, "and don't shake so! +Just think that you're going to Lafe and Peg." + +Then they began their long, perilous journey to the corner of the +building. It must have taken twenty minutes. Jinnie had no means by +which to mark the time. She only knew how difficult it was to keep the +blind child moving, with the water below bellowing its stormy way down +the rock-hill to the lake. Happy Pete gave a weird little cry now and +then. But on and on they went, and at the corner Jinnie spoke: + +"Bobbie, we've got to turn here. Let your body go just as I shove +it." + +Limp was no word for Bobbie's body. He was dreadfully tired. His heart +thumped under Jinnie's arms like a battering-ram. + +"Bobbie, don't breathe that way, don't!" she entreated. + +"I can't help it, honey! my side hurts," he whispered. "But I'll go +where you take me, Jinnie dear." + +The girl turned him carefully around the sharp ledge corner, and they +went on again. Her arms seemed almost paralyzed, but they clung to the +child ahead, and the child ahead clung to the little dog, who hung +very straight and inert in front of his body. + +When they reached the south corner, Jinnie explained their next move +to Bobbie in this way: + +"Now listen," she told him. "You get on my back with your legs under +my arms, hang to me like dear life, and keep Happy Pete between us. +Don't hurt him if you can help it." + +They were within touch of one of the dangling ropes and far below +Jinnie saw the swaying plank to which it was fastened. Once on that +board, she could get to the ground. + +Then she continued: "Now while I lean over, you get on my back." + +As she guided his slender hands, she felt them cold within her own, +but in obedience to her command, Bobbie put his legs about her, one +arm around her neck, and with the other held Happy Pete. + +"We won't fall, will we, Jinnie?" quavered the boy. + +"No," said Jinnie, helping to settle him on her back. + +Then she crawled closer to the rope, took up her skirt and placed it +about the rough hemp. She was afraid to use her bare hands. The rope +might cut and burn them so dreadfully that she'd have to let go. With +a wild inward prayer, she swung off into the air, with the boy, the +dog and the fiddle on her back, and began her downward slide. She +counted the windows as they passed, one, two, three, and then four. +Only a little distance more before she would be upon firm ground. As +her feet touched the plank, she glanced into the street and in that +awful moment saw Jordan Morse crossing the corner diagonally, within +but a few yards of where she stood, terrified. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +BOBBIE'S STARS RENEW THEIR SHINING + + +Jinnie stood rooted to the spot, the burden on her back bearing +heavily upon her. She scarcely dared breathe, but kept her startled +eyes upon the advancing man. Her uncle was walking with his head down. +As he approached the building, a terrible shiver passed over the blind +boy. + +"The black man's comin'!" he shuddered. "I hear----" + +"Hush!" whispered Jinnie, and Bobbie dropped his head and remained +quiet. + +The girl's heart was thumping almost as fast as his. + +In the oppressive silence she heard Bobbie's faint whisper: "Our--our +Father who art in Heaven," and her own lips murmured: "He has given +his angels charge over thee." + +Without raising his eyes, Jordan Morse sprang to the steps and entered +the door. + +Jinnie turned her head and almost mechanically watched him disappear. +Then she took one long, sobbing breath. + +"Bobbie, Bobbie," she panted, "get down quick!" + +The boy slid to the plank, dropping Happy Pete. + +Jinnie grasped the child's cold hand in hers, and they ran rapidly to +a thick clump of trees. Once out of sight of the building, she picked +up the little dog and sank down, clutching Bobbie close to her +heart. + +The beginning of the second day of Lafe's trial brought a large crowd +to the courthouse. All the evidence thus far given had been against +him, but he sat in his wheelchair, looking quietly from under his +shaggy brows, and never once, with all that was said against him, did +the sweet, benevolent expression change to anger. The cobbler had put +his life into higher hands than those in the courtroom, and he feared +not. + +After the morning session, Jordan Morse left the room with a satisfied +smile. He walked rapidly to the streetcar and took a seat, with a +thoughtful expression on his countenance. Lafe would be convicted, and +he would get rid of the girl now shut away from the world in the gorge +building. Then, with the money that would be his, he'd find his +child,--the little boy who was his own and for whom he so longed. He +often looked at Molly and wondered how she could smile so radiantly +when she knew she had lost her child,--her own flesh and blood,--her +own little son. + +Even after he left the car and was approaching the gorge, he worried +about the two in the house. It was because his mind was bent on +important plans that he did not see Jinnie swinging in the sunshine +between heaven and earth. He climbed the stairs, framing a sentence +for the girl's benefit. As he unlocked the door, the silence of the +room bore down upon him like an evil thing. He went hurriedly into the +second room, only to find it also empty. For the moment he did not +notice the shattered glass on the floor, and his heart sank within +him, but the breeze that drifted to his face brought his eyes to the +broken window. With an oath, he jumped to it and looked out. Far +below, the water tumbled as of yore over the rocks. He strained +horrified eyes for a glimpse of a human body. The girl and boy must +have dropped together into the deep abyss, preferring death to +uncertainty. They were gone--gone over the ragged rocks, where their +bodies would be lost in some of the fathomless juts a mile beyond. He +would never be bothered with Jinnie again. Then he turned from the +window. His most terrifying obstacle was out of his way. The blind +child did not concern him. He was but a feather in the wind,--the +little fellow who always shrank from him. + +As if leaving a tomb, he went softly from the room and turned the key +in the lock with a sigh. Jinnie had relieved him of an awful +responsibility. At least fate had taken from his hands a detestable +task, at which he had many a time recoiled. So far all of his enemies, +with the exception of Theodore King, had one by one been taken away, +and he swung himself out of the building with a great burden lifted +from his shoulders. + +As he passed, Jinnie was still drawing long breaths under the thick +bushes, Bobbie's face against her breast, and it was not until she was +sure Morse had gone that she ventured to speak. + +"We're going to Lafe and Peg, Bobbie," she said. "Can you walk a long +way?" + +"Yes," gurgled Bobbie, color flaming his face. "My legs'll go faster'n +anything." + +And "faster'n anything" those thin little legs did go. The boy trotted +along beside his friend, down the hill to the flats. Jinnie chose a +back street leading to the lower end of the town. + +"I'd better carry you a while, dearie," she offered presently, noting +with what difficulty he breathed. "You take the fiddle!" And without +remonstrance from the boy she lifted him in her arms. + +From the tracks Lafe's small house had the appearance of being +unoccupied. Jinnie went in, walking from the shop to the kitchen, +where she called "Peggy!" two or three times. Then the thought of the +cobbler's trial rushed over her. Peggy and the baby were at court with +Lafe, of course. + +Knowing she must face her uncle in the courtroom, she went to Lafe's +black box and drew forth the sealed letter her father had sent to +Grandoken. This she hid in her dress, and taking Bobbie and the +fiddle, she went out and closed the door. + +Another long walk brought them to the courthouse, which stood in +solemn stone silence, with one side to the dark, iron-barred jail. +Jinnie shivered when she thought of the weary months Lafe had sat +within his gloomy cell. + +She entered the building, holding Bobbie's hand. Every seat in the +room was filled, and a man was making a speech, using the names of +Maudlin Bates and Lafe Grandoken. + +Then she looked about once more, craning her neck to catch sight of +those ahead. Her eyes fell first upon Lafe, God bless him! There he +sat, her cobbler, in the same old wheelchair, wearing that look of +benign patience so familiar to her. Only a little distance from him +sat Peggy, the baby sleeping on her knees. Molly the Merry was seated +next to Jordan Morse, whose large white hand nervously clutched the +back of the woman's chair. + +Several stern-looking men at a table had numerous papers over which +they were bending. Then Jinnie's gaze found Jasper Bates. She could +see, by the look upon his face, that he was suffering. She felt sorry, +sorry for any one who was in trouble, who had lost a son in such a +manner as Jasper had. Then she awoke to the import of the lawyer's +words. + +"Before you, Gentlemen of the Jury," he was saying, "is a murderer, a +Jew, Lafe Grandoken. You know very well the reputation of the people +on Paradise Road. The good book says 'a life for a life.' This Jew +shot and killed his neighbor----" + +Jinnie lost his next words. She was looking at Lafe, and saw his dear +face grow white with stabbing anguish. The girl's throat filled with +sobs, and she suddenly remembered something Theodore had once said to +her. + +"If you want anything, child, just play for it." + +And she wanted the life of her cobbler, the man who had taken her, +with such generosity, into his heart and meagre home. She slipped the +fiddle from the case and stooped and whispered in Bobbie's ear: + +"Grab the back of my dress, dearie, and don't let go!" + +She moved into the aisle, making ready to start on her life mission. +She lifted the bow, and with a long sweep, drew an intense minor note +from the strings. A sea of faces swung in her direction. Jinnie forgot +every one but the cobbler--she was playing for his life--improvising +on the fiddle strings a wild, pleading, imploring melody. On and on +she went, with Blind Bobbie, in trembling confusion, clinging to her +skirts, and Happy Pete with sagging head at their heels. At the first +sound of the fiddle Lafe tried to rise, and did rise. He stood for a +moment on his shaking legs, and there, to the amazement of the gaping +crowd of his townsfolk, he swayed to and fro, watching and listening +as the wonderful music filled and thrilled through the room. + +A heavenly light shone on the wrinkled face. + +Jordan Morse got to his feet, chalk white. Molly the Merry was looking +at Jinnie as if she saw a ghost. + +The onlookers saw Lafe's unsteady steps as he tottered toward the +lovely girl and blind child. When he was within touching distance, she +put the instrument and bow under one arm and took Lafe's hand in hers. +Her voice rang out like the tone of a bell. + +"I've come for you, Lafe. I've come to take you back." + +Then Molly's eyes dropped from Jinnie to the boy, and a cry broke from +her. Before her was the child for whom, in spite of the evidence of +her smiling lips, she had truly mourned. The wan, blind face was +turned upward, the golden hair lying in damp curls on the lovely head. +Spontaneously the woman reached forward and took the little hand in +hers. All the mother within her leaped up, like a brilliant flash of +lightning. + +"My baby!" was all she said; and Bobbie, white, trembling and +palpitating, cried in a weird, high voice: + +"I've found my mother!" + +Then Jordan Morse understood. The hot blood was tearing to his ear +drums. The blind boy he had persecuted and tortured, the boy he had +made suffer, was his own son. That wonderful quality in the man, the +fatherhood within him, rose in surging insistence. Instant remorse +attacked him, as an oak is attacked by fierce winter storms. He saw +the boy's angelic face grow the color of death; saw Molly the Merry +gather him up. Then a stab of jealousy cut his heart like a knife. He +bent over with set jaws. + +"Give him to me," he cried. "He's mine!" + +Molly surrendered the child with reluctance, but terror and fright +were depicted upon Bobbie's face. + +"Jinnie! Lafe! Peggy!" he screamed. "He'll hurt me! The black man's +goin' to kill me! Jinnie, pretty Jinnie----" + +The passionate voice grew faint and ceased. Then the loving little +heart burst in the boyish bosom, and Bobbie's angels bore away his +young soul to another world where blindness is not,--where his +uplifted being would understand that the stars he'd loved,--the stars +he'd gathered in his small, unseeing head,--were but a reflection of +those in God's firmament. With one final quiver he straightened out in +his father's arms and was silent. All his loves and sorrows were in +the eternal yesterdays, and to-day had delivered him into the charge +of Lafe's angels. + +Jinnie was crying hysterically, and her father's dying curse upon her +uncle leapt into her mind. She was clinging to the cobbler, and both +had moved to Peg, where the woman sat as if turned to stone. + +Not a person in the courtroom stirred. In consternation the jury sat +in their chairs like graven images, taking in the freshly wrought +tragedy with tense expressions. The judge, too, leaned forward in his +chair, watching. + +Jordan Morse faced the room, with its silent, observant crowd, +pressing to his breast the dead body of his child. Then he turned to +Lafe, white, twitching, and suffering. + +"I shot Maudlin Bates," he said, haltingly; then turning to the jury +he continued: "The cobbler's an innocent man----" + +A menacing groan fell from a hundred lips at his words. + +He deliberately took from his hip pocket a revolver, lifted the weapon +and finished: + +"I'm--I'm sorry, Jinnie, I'm----" + +Then came the sharp, short bark of the gun, and the bullet found a +path to his brain. He staggered, frantically clutching the slender +body of Bobbie closer--and toppled over. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +FOR BOBBIE'S SAKE + + +Lafe's homecoming was one of solemn rejoicing. The only shadow hanging +over the happy family was the absence of Blind Bobbie, who now lay by +the side of his dead father. + +After the first greetings, Lafe took his boy baby and pressed him +gratefully to his heart. + +"He's beautiful, Peggy dear, ain't he?" he implored, drinking in with +affectionate, fatherly eyes the rosy little face. "Wife darlin', make +a long story short an' tell me he's beautiful." + +Mrs. Grandoken eyed her husband sternly. + +"Lafe," she admonished, "you're as full of brag as a egg is of meat, +and salt won't save you. All your life you've boasted till I thought +the world'd come to an end, an' I ain't never said a word against it. +Now you can't teach me none of your bad habits, because I won't learn +'em, so don't try." She paused, her lips lifting a little at the +corners, and went on: "But I'm tellin' you with my own lips there +ain't a beautifuller baby in this county'n this little feller, nor one +half so beautiful! So there's my mind, sir." + +"'Tis so, dear," murmured the cobbler, rejoicing. + +About five o'clock in the afternoon, while Peggy was uptown +replenishing the slender larder and Lafe and Jinnie were alone with +the baby, there came a timid knock. + +Jinnie went to the door and there stood Molly Merriweather. The +woman's face was white and drawn, her eyes darkly circled underneath. + +One glance at her and Jinnie lost her own color. + +"I want to speak with you just a moment," the woman said beseechingly. +"May I come in?" + +Without answering, Jinnie backed into the room, which action Molly +took as a signal to enter. + +She inclined her head haughtily to the cobbler. + +"Would you mind if I spoke to Miss Grandoken alone?" + +Lafe looked to Jinnie for acquiescence. + +"If Jinnie'll help me to the kitchen," he replied, "you can talk here. +I'm a little unsteady on my feet yet, miss!" + +It took some time for the tottering legs to bear him away, but the +strong, confident girl helped him most patiently. + +"You might just slip me the baby, Jinnie," said Lafe, after he was +seated in the kitchen. "I could be lookin' at 'im while you're +talkin'. You ain't mindin' the woman, honey lass, be you?" + +"No, dear," answered Jinnie. + +This done, the girl returned to Molly, who stood at the window staring +out upon the tracks. She turned quickly, and Jinnie noticed her eyes +were full of tears. + +"I suppose you won't refuse to tell me something of my--my little +boy?" she pleaded. + +Tears welled over Jinnie's lids too. Bobbie's presence and adoration +were still fresh in her mind. + +"He's dead," she mourned. "My little Bobbie! Poor little hurt +Bobbie!" + +Molly made a passionate gesture with her gloved hands. + +"Don't, please don't say those things! I'm so miserable I can't think +of him. I only wanted to know how you got him." + +"I just found him," stated Jinnie. Then, because Molly looked so +white, she forgot the anguish the woman had caused her, and rehearsed +the story of Bobbie's life from the time she had discovered him on the +hill. + +"I guess he was always unhappy till he came to us." + +"And I helped to hurt him," cried Molly, shivering. + +"But you didn't know he was yours," soothed Jinnie. + +The woman shook her head. + +"No, of course I didn't know," she replied, and then went on rapidly: + +"I was so young when I married your uncle, I didn't know anything. +When I lost my baby, I knew no way to search for him." + +"Won't you sit down?" Jinnie had forgotten that they were both +standing. "Sit in that little rocker; it's Bobbie's," she finished. + +Molly looked at the little chair and turned away. + +"Lafe bought it for him," Jinnie explained eagerly. "He was too sick +with his heart to get around much like other boys." + +Miss Merriweather wrung her hands. + +"Don't tell me any more," she begged piteously. "He's dead and nothing +can help him now. I've--something else to say to you." Jinnie wiped +her eyes. + +"Mr. King is quite well now, and----" + +"Oh, I'm glad!" cried Jinnie. "Does he--he ever speak of me?" + +Molly shook her head mutely. + +"I don't want him to see you!" she cried, her eyes growing hard and +bright. + +"Why?" Jinnie said the one word in bewilderment. + +"He doesn't know yet what Jordan and I did to you, nor +about--about--Bobbie. I don't want him to, either, just yet. I fear if +he does, he won't care for me." + +Jinnie's eyes drew down at the corners. + +"Of course he wouldn't if he knew," she said, with tightly gripped +fingers. + +Molly paid no heed to this, but went on rapidly: + +"Well, first, you don't love him as I do----" + +"I love him very much," interjected Jinnie, "and he used to love me." + +The woman's lips drew linelike over her teeth. + +"But you see he doesn't any longer," she got out, "and if you go +away----" + +"Go away?" gasped Jinnie. + +"Yes, from Bellaire. You won't stay here, now that you're rich." She +threw a contemptuous glance about the shop. Jinnie caught the +inflection of the cutting voice and noted the expression in the dark +eyes. + +"I'll stay wherever Lafe and Peggy are," she said stubbornly. + +"Perhaps, but that doesn't say you're going to live in this street all +your life.... I want you to go back to Mottville." + +Jinnie still looked a cold, silent refusal. + +Molly grew even whiter than before, but remembering Jinnie's kindly +heart, she turned her tactics. + +"I'm very miserable," she wept, "and I love Theodore better than any +one in the world." + +"So do I," sighed Jinnie, bowing her head. + +"But he doesn't love you, child, and he does love me." + +Jinnie's eyes fixed their gaze steadily on the other woman. + +"Then why're you afraid for him to see me?" she demanded. + +Molly got to her feet. She saw her flimsily constructed love world +shattered by the girl before her. She knew Theodore still loved her, +and that if he knew all her own wickedness, his devotion would +increase a hundredfold. He must not see Jinnie! Jinnie must not see +him! Rapidly she reviewed the quarrels she and Theodore had had, +remembered how punctiliously he always carried out his honorable +intentions, and then--Molly went very near the girl, staring at her +with terror in her eyes. + +"Jinnie," she said softly, "pretty Jinnie!" + +Those words were Bobbie's last earthly appeal to her, and Jinnie's +face blanched in recollection. + +"Didn't you love my baby?" Molly hurried on. + +A memory of fluttering fingers traveling over her face left Jinnie's +heart cold. Next to Lafe and Theodore she had loved Bobbie best. + +"I loved him, oh, very much indeed!" she whispered. + +"And he often told you he loved--his--his--mother?" + +"Yes." + +Molly was slowly drawing the girl's hands into hers. + +"He'd want me to be happy, Jinnie dear. Oh, please let me have the +only little happiness left me!" + +Jinnie drew away, almost hypnotized. + +"I can't be a--a good woman unless I have Theodore," Molly moaned. +"You're very young----" + +Her eyes sought the girl's, who was struggling to her feet. + +"For Bobbie's sake, Jinnie, for--for----" + +Jinnie brought to mind the blind boy, his winsome ways, his desire for +his beautiful mother, her own love for Theodore, and turning away, +said with a groan: + +"I want Theodore to be happy, and I want you to be happy, too, +for--for Bobbie's sake. I--I promise not to see him, but I'll always +believe he loves me--that--that----" + +"You're a good girl," interrupted Molly with a sigh of relief. + +Jinnie went to the door. + +"Go now," she said, with proudly lifted head, "and I hope I'll never +see you again as long as I live." + +Then Molly went away, and for a long time the girl stood, with her +back to the door, weeping out the sorrow of a torn young soul. She had +promised to give up Theodore completely. She had lost her love, her +friend, her sweetheart. Once more she had surrendered to Bobbie +Grandoken the best she had to give. + +Later, when the cobbler and his wife were crooning over their little +son, Jinnie, with breaking heart, decided she would leave Bellaire at +once, as Molly had asked her. She must never think of Theodore again. +She'd renounced him, firmly believing he still loved her; she'd +promised to depart without seeing him, but surely, oh, a little +farewell note, with the assurances of her gratitude, would not be +breaking that promise. + +So, until Peggy carried the baby away to bed, the girl composed a +letter to Theodore, pathetic in its terseness. She also wrote to +Molly, telling her she had decided to go back to Mottville +immediately. + +When she had finished the letters, she took her usual place on the +stool at the cobbler's feet. + +"Lafe," she ventured, wearily, "some time I'm going to tell you +everything that's happened since I last saw you, but not to-night!" + +"Whenever you're ready, honey," acquiesced Lafe. + +"And I've been thinking of something else, dear. I want to go to +Mottville." + +Lafe's face paled. + +"I don't see how Peg an' me'll live without you, Jinnie." + +Jinnie touched the hand smoothing her curls. + +"I couldn't live without you either, Lafe, and I won't try----" + +The cobbler bent and kissed her. + +"I won't try, dear," she repeated. "You must all live with me, +although I'll go first to arrange things a little. We'll never worry +about money any more, dearest." + +"And Mr. King," Lafe faltered, quite disturbed, "what about him?" + +"I shan't ever see him again," Jinnie stated sadly. "I've just written +him, and he'll understand." + +Lafe knew by the finality of her tones that she did not care to +discuss Theodore that night. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +BACK HOME + + +Late the next afternoon Jinnie left the train at Mottville station, +her fiddle box in one hand, and a suitcase in the other. She stood a +moment watching the train as it disappeared. It had carried her from +the man she loved, brought her away from Bellaire, the city of her +hopes. One bitter fact reared itself above all others. The world of +which Theodore King had been the integral part was dead to her. What +was she to do without him, without Bobbie to pet and love? But a +feeling of thanksgiving pervaded her when she remembered she still had +Lafe's smile, the baby to croon over, and dear, stoical Peggy. They +would live with her in the old home. It was preferable to staying in +Bellaire, where her heart would be tortured daily. Rather the brooding +hills, the singing pines, and all the wildness of nature, which was +akin to the struggle within her, and perhaps in the future she might +gather up the broken threads of her life. + +She shook as if attacked with ague as she came within sight of the +gaunt farmhouse, and the broken windows and hanging doors gave her a +sense of everlasting decay. + +Below her in the valley lay the blue lake, a shining spread of water, +quiet and silent, here and there upon it the shadow of a floating, +fluffy cloud. She listened to the nagging chatter of the squirrels, +mingled with the fluttering of the forest birds high above her head. +As she stood on the hill, the only human being in all the wilderness +about, in fancy she seemed to be at the very top of the world. + +She heard the old familiar voices of the mourning pines, and +remembered their soothing magic, and a stinging reproach swept over +her at the thought of her forgetfulness of them. They had been friends +when no other friends were near. Along with the flood of memories came +Matty's ghastly ghost stories and her past belief that her mother's +spirit hovered near her. + +She went through the lane leading to the house and paused under the +trees. Presently she placed her violin box and suitcase on the grass +and lay down beside them. In the eaves of the house a dove cooed his +late afternoon love to his mate, and Jinnie, because she was very +young and very much in love, brought Theodore before her with that +lingering retrospection that takes possession in such sensuous +moments. She could feel again the hot tremor of his hands as they +clung to hers, and she bent her head in shame at the acute, +electrifying sensations. He belonged to another woman; he no longer +belonged to her. She must conquer her love for him, and at that moment +every desire to study, every thought of work seemed insipid and +useless. The whole majestic beauty of the scene, her sudden coming +into a great deal of money, did not add to her happiness. She would +gladly give it all up to be again with her loves of yesterday. But +that could not be! The future lay in a hard, straight line before her. +She was striving against a ceaseless, resisting force,--the force of +her whole passionate nature. + +With their usual reluctance, the things of night at length crept +forth. Jinnie felt some of them as they touched her hands, her face, +and moved on. One of the countless birds fluttered low, as if +frightened at the advancing dark, brushed her cheek, then winged on +and up and was lost in the tree above her. Somewhere deep in the gloom +shrouding the little graveyard came the ghostly flutter of an owl. + +Jinnie was flat on her back, and how long she lay thus she could never +afterward remember, but it was until the stars appeared and the moon +formed queer fantastic pictures, like frost upon a window pane. In +solemn review passed the days,--from that awful night when she had +left her father dead upon the floor in the house nearby to the present +moment. She glanced at the windows. They looked back at her like +square, darkening eyes. + +She wondered dully how that wee star away off there could blink so +peacefully in its nightly course when just below it beat a heart that +hurt like hers. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, +long black fingers were drawing dark pictures across the sky. A drop +of rain fell upon her face, but still she did not move. Then, like +rows of soldiers, the low clouds drew slowly together, and the stars +softly wept themselves out. + +Suddenly, from the other side of the lake, the thunder rolled up, and +with the distant boom came the thought of Lafe's infinite faith, and +the memory fell upon Jinnie like a benediction from God's dark sky. + +She arose from the grass, took the fiddle box and bag, and walked to +the porch. She went in through the broken door. It was dark, too dark +to see much, and from the leather case she took a box of matches and a +candle. Memories crowded down upon her thick and fast. In the kitchen, +which was bare, she could mark the place where Matty used to sit and +where her own chair had been. + +The long stairs that led from the basement to the upper floor yawned +black in the gloom. Candle and fiddle in hand, Jinnie mounted them and +halted before the unopened door. Somehow it seemed as if she would +find before the grate the long, thin body of her dead father, and she +distinctly remembered the spindle fire-flames falling in golden yellow +licks upon his face. In her imagination she could again see the +flake-like ashes, thrown out from the smoldering fire, rise grey to +the ceiling, then descend silently over him like a pale shroud. + +After this hesitation, she slowly turned the handle of the door and +walked in. The only things remaining in the room were a broken table +and chair. She placed the violin on the floor and the candle on the +table. Then with a shudder Jinnie drew from her blouse an unopened +letter, studying it long in the flickering light. It had been written +in this very room three years before, and within its sealed pages lay +the whole secret which now none but the dead knew. + +It took no effort on her part to bring back to her memory Jordan +Morse's handsome face and his rock-grey eyes, eyes like Bobbie's. He +and Bobbie had gone away together. She touched the corner of the +envelope to the candle, watching it roll over in a brown curl as it +burned. + +"He's happy now," she murmured. "He's got his baby and Lafe's +angels." + +Then she gathered up the handful of ashes, opened the window, and +threw them out. The hands of the night wind snatched them as they fell +and carried them swiftly away through the rain. + +On her way to the attic stairs, she stood a minute before the window, +awe-stricken. From the north the great storm was advancing, and from +among the hills rolled the distant roar of thunder. It brought to her +mind the night when Peggy had gone into the life-valley and brought +back Lafe's baby; and she remembered, too, with a sob, Blind Bobbie, +and how she missed him. Ah, it was a lonely, haunted little spirit +that crept up the dark narrow stairs to the garret! + +Only that the room seemed lower and more stuffy, it, too, was much the +same as she had left it. She brushed aside some silvery cobwebs, +raised the window, and sat down on a dilapidated trunk. On the floor +at her feet, almost covered with dust, was the old fairy book about +the famous kings. She picked it up mechanically. On the first page was +the man in the red suit, with the overhanging nose and fat body,--he +whom she at one time believed to be related to Theodore. + +Again she was overwhelmed with her misery. Theodore belonged to +another woman, and Jinnie, alone with her past and an uncertain +future, sat staring dry-eyed into the stormy night. + + + + +CHAPTER L + +"GOD MADE YOU MINE" + + +"I haven't seen any papers for three days, Molly. What's become of +them all?" + +Theodore and Molly were sitting in the waning sunshine, the +many-colored autumn leaves drifting silently past them to form a +varied carpet over the grass. + +All fear had now left the woman. She had Jinnie's promise not to see +Theodore, and he had apparently forgotten there ever was such a girl +in the world. + +"I'd really like to see the papers," repeated Theodore. "Dear me, how +glad I am to be so well!" + +"We're all glad," whispered Molly, with bright eyes. + +She had kept the papers from him purposely, playfully pretending she +would rather give him an account of the court proceedings. When she +described how another man had confessed to the shooting, Theodore felt +a glad thrill that the cobbler was exonerated. Later Molly decided she +would tell him about Morse, but never that she had married him. It was +she who suggested, after a time of silence: + +"Theodore, don't you think a little trip would do us all good? Your +mother's been so worried over you----" + +"Where would we go?" he asked, without interest. + +"Anywhere to get away from Bellaire for a season." + +"We might consider it," he replied reluctantly. Then he fell to +thinking of a blue-eyed girl, of the letter,--that puzzling letter +she had sent him. When he could bear his thoughts no longer, he got up +and walked away under the trees, and Molly allowed him to go. She +watched him strolling slowly, and was happy. He had been so sweet, so +kindly, almost thrilling to her of late. She would make him love her. +It would be but a matter of a few weeks if she could get him away from +Bellaire. Just at that moment Mrs. King's bell rang, and she went into +the house. When she came back, Theodore was sitting on the veranda +reading a letter, with another one unopened on his knee. The sight of +his white face brought an exclamation from her lips. + +"Theodore!" she cried. + +He reminded her she was standing by saying: + +"Sit down!" + +This she was glad to do, for her knees trembled. Her eyes caught the +handwriting on the unopened letter, resting like a white menace on +Theodore's lap. She saw her own name upon it, but dared not, nor had +she the strength, to ask for it. + +At length, with a long breath, Theodore looked at her steadily. + +"This letter is for you," he said, picking up her own. "Open it and +then--give it to me." + +Never had she heard such tones in his voice, nor had she ever been so +thoroughly frightened. Mechanically she took the letter, tore open the +flap, and read the contents: + + * * * * * + +"DEAR MISS MERRIWEATHER: + +"After you left the shop, I decided to do as you wanted me to. I shall +go back to Mottville, and afterwards Peggy and Lafe will come to me. +I'll keep my promise and won't see Theodore. I hope you will make him +happy. + + JINNIE GRANDOKEN." + + * * * * * + +Molly crushed the paper between her fingers. + +"Don't do that," commanded Theodore sharply. "Give it to me." + +"It's mine," murmured Molly, lacking breath to speak aloud. + +"Give it to me!" thundered Theodore. + +And because she dared not disobey, she slowly extended the letter. + +With deliberation the man spread out the crumpled page and read it +through slowly. Then once more he took up his own letter and perused +it. + + * * * * * + +"DEAR MR. KING: + +"I'm going back to my home in the hills to-morrow. I'm so glad you're +better. I thank you for all you've done for Lafe and Peggy, and hope +you'll always be happy. For what you did for me I can't thank you +enough, but as soon as I get my money, I'll send back all you've +advanced for my lessons and other things. I'm praying all the time for +you. + + "JINNIE GRANDOKEN SINGLETON." + + * * * * * + +Sudden tears almost blotted the signature from Theodore's vision. + +On the spur of the moment he picked up both letters and thrust them +into his pocket. + +"Come upstairs with me," he ordered the woman staring at him with +frozen features. + +Molly followed him as in a dream, preceding him when he stepped aside +to allow her to enter the little sitting-room, where of late she had +passed so many pleasant hours. Then as he closed the door, he whirled +upon her. + +"Now I want the meaning of those letters. Have you seen Miss +Grandoken?" + +"Yes!" She could say no more. + +"When?" + +"Yesterday." + +"There's something I don't know. Ah! That's why you kept the papers +from me." Quickly he turned to the bell. + +"Theodore!" gasped Molly. "Wait! Wait! Don't--don't ring! I'll tell +you; I will!" + +He pressed the bell button savagely. + +"I wouldn't believe you under oath," he muttered. + +"I want all this week's papers, and I want 'em quick!" he snapped at +the servant. "Every one! Last night's too!" + +He walked to the window, but turned again as a knock came upon the +door. + +"I can't find the papers, sir," excused the maid. + +"Wait!" Theodore closed the door, exclaiming in white heat, "Molly, +where are those papers?" + +"In my room," replied Molly sulkily. + +Mr. King gave the order, and again they were behind closed doors. +Molly made a sorry picture of shame when Theodore looked at her. + +"I'll get to the bottom of this if it kills me," he said wearily. + +"Theo, Theo, don't read the papers!" she gasped. Then she fell forward +at his feet. "I love you, dear; I love you." + +"You've lost your mind, Molly," he said harshly. "You're mad, +completely mad." + +"No, I'm not. Listen, Theodore, I'm here at your feet, miserable, +unhappy; I want to be forgiven----" + +"Then tell me what you did to Jinnie Grandoken." + +"I can't! I can't!" + +When another knock sounded on the door, Theodore opened it and took +the papers through the smallest imaginable crack. Molly crawled to a +chair and leaned her head upon the seat. Without a word, Theodore sat +down and began to turn the pages of the papers nervously. As he read +both accounts of Lafe's trial, bitter ejaculations fell from his lips. +The story of Bobbie's dramatic death and Morse's suicide brought forth +a groan. When he placed the papers slowly beside him on the floor, +Molly raised her face, white and torn with grief. + +"Now you know it all, forgive me!" + +"Never, while I live!" he cried. "What ungodly wretchedness you've +made that child suffer! And you were married all the time to Morse, +and the mother of that poor little boy!" + +"Yes," sobbed Molly. + +Then a sudden thought took possession of him. + +"You and Morse made Jinnie write me that first letter." + +Molly nodded. + +"May God forgive you both!" he stammered, and whirled out of the +room. + +An hour later, with new strength and purpose, Theodore threw a few +clothes into a suitcase, ordered the fastest motor in the garage, and +was standing on the porch when Molly came swiftly to him. + +"Theodore," she said, with twitching face, "if you go away now, you +won't find me here when you get back." + +He glanced her over with curling lip. + +"As you please," he returned indifferently. "You've done enough damage +as it is. If you've any heart, stay here with the only person in the +world who has any faith in you." + +Vacantly the woman watched the motor glide away over the smooth white +road, and then limply slid to the floor in a dead faint. + +All the distance from Bellaire to Mottville Theodore was tortured with +doubt. He brought to mind Jinnie's girlish embarrassment when they had +been together; the fluttering white lids as his kisses brought a blue +flash from the speaking love-lit eyes. She had loved him then; did she +now? Of course she must love him! She had brought to him the freshness +of spring--the love of the mating birds among the blossoms--the +passionate desire of a heaven-wrought soul for its own, to whom could +be entrusted all that was his dearest and best. He would follow her +and win her,--yea, _win_ the woman God had made for him and him alone, +and into his eyes leapt the expression of the conquering male, the +force God had created within him to reach for the woman sublime and +cherish her. + +When the car entered Mottville, rain was falling and the wind was +mourning ceaselessly. + +By inquiry, Theodore found the road to the Singleton farm, and again, +as he impatiently sank back in the motor, he mentally vowed, with the +vow of a strong man, that the girl should listen to him. He never +realized, until they were climbing the rain-soaked hill, how starved +was the very soul of him. + +The road was running with water, but they ploughed on, until through +the trees the farmhouse loomed up darkly. Bennett stopped the car at +the gate and Theodore jumped out. A light twinkling in the upper part +of the house told him she was there. Harmonious echoes were sounding +and resounding in his ears. They were notes from Jinnie's fiddle, and +for a moment, as they sobbed out through the attic window, he leaned +back against the wet fence, feeling almost faint. The wild, sweet, +unearthly melody surged over him with memories of the past. + +Then he passed under the thrashing pines, mounted the broken steps, +and entered the house. + +It took but a minute to find the stairs by which to reach her, and +there he stood in the gloom of the attic door, watching the swaying +young figure and noting the whole pitiful dejection of her. In the +single little light her eyes were as blue as the wing of a royal bird, +and oh, what suffering she must have gone through! Then Jinnie ceased +playing, and, as if drawn by a presence she knew not of, she turned +her eyes slowly toward the door, and when she saw him, she fell, +huddled with her violin on the garret floor, staring upward with +frightened eyes. + +"If you're there," she panted, "if--if--speak to me!" + +He bounded forward and gathered her up, and the light of an adoring +love shone full upon him. + +"My sweet, my sweet, my beautiful, my little wonder-woman!" he +breathed. "Did you think I could live without you?" + +She was leaning, half fainting, against his breast, like a wind-blown +flower. + +"I've come for you," he said hoarsely. "Dearest, sweetest Jinnie!" + +She pressed backward, loyalty for another woman rising within her. + +"But Molly, Molly the Merry----" she breathed. + +Theodore shook his head. + +"I only know I love you, sweetheart, that I've come for you," and as +his lips met hers, Jinnie clung to him, a very sweet young thing, and +between those warm, passionate kisses she heard him murmur: + +"God made you mine, littlest love!" + +And so they went forth from the lonely farmhouse, with none but the +cobbler's angels watching over them. + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose O'Paradise, by Grace Miller White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE O'PARADISE *** + +***** This file should be named 28462.txt or 28462.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/4/6/28462/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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