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. 186

“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.” 187

“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: 188

“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 189 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 190 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. 191

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.