lift. 

 
 
 TIBOIVU LKTT 
 
 TH FAUfBOUUC, CABBTIMO BEB flDDLI AMD TE1 PAIL OF CATS, AMD TEX BLIZZARD 
 WALLOWED EBB UP.
 
 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 BY 
 
 GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY** 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 W. J. SHETTSLINE 
 
 New York 
 THE H. K. FLY COMPANY 
 
 Publishers
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
 THE H. K. FLY COMPANY
 
 I lovingly dedicate this book 
 
 to 
 Rose and Will Scott 
 
 2133694
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. Father and Daughter 
 
 II. A White Presence 
 
 III. Jinnie's Farewell to Molly the Merry . 
 
 IV. Jinnie Travels 
 
 V. Like Unto Like Attracted .... 
 
 VI. Peg's Bark 
 
 VII. Just a Jew 
 
 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
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 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 
 
 XXXVII. What the Thunder Storm Brought . 
 
 XXXVIII. The Story of a Bird 
 
 XXXIX. Jinnie's Visit to Theodore .... 
 
 XL. An Appeal to Jinnie's Heart . 
 
 XLI. Jinnie's Plea 
 
 XLII. Bobbie Takes a Trip 
 
 XLIII. Theodore Sends for Molly .... 
 
 XLIV. Molly Gives an Order to Jinnie . 
 
 XLV. Writing a Letter to Theodore . . . 
 
 XLVI. "Bust 'Em Out" 
 
 XLVII. Bobbie's Stars Renew Their Shining 
 
 XLVIII. For Bobbie's Sake 
 
 XLIX. Back Home 
 
 L. "God Made You Mine" . 
 
 4.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Virginia 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 Millie 
 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." Page 54 
 
 "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." Page 135 
 
 "Play for me," Theodore said. "Stand by that 
 
 big tree so I can look at you." .... Page 215
 
 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 struc- 
 ture. 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 over- 
 hanging 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. Sev- 
 eral times, passionately insistent, he shook his head, and it 
 was as if the refusal were being made to an invisible pres- 
 ence. Suddenly he lifted his face as the sound of a weird, 
 wild wail was borne to him, mingling with the elf-like moan- 
 ing of the wind. He leaned forward slightly, listening in- 
 tently. From somewhere above him pleading notes from 
 a violin were making the night even more mournful. A 
 change came over the thin face. 
 
 9
 
 10 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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?" ques- 
 tioned 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 strain- 
 ing 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 to- 
 gether 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
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 11 
 
 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,
 
 12 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Jinnie?' if I hadn't looked at you sharp, sir, how'd I 
 knov 
 
 She sighed as her eyes roved the length of the man once 
 more. The ashes in the grate were no grayer than his 
 face. 
 
 u'rc 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 pres- 
 ently, with a meditative air. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir!" she agreed. "I'm a woman now. I'm 
 fifteen years old." 
 
 : Will, will, 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 shoul- 
 ders, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. Even 
 : -crate 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. 
 
 II I w-n- filled with contemplation; then the lovely 
 
 face, in it* exquisite purity, saddened for a moment. 
 
 "Matty i>n't going to take me across her knee never 
 any more," she vouchsafed, a smile breaking like a rav of 
 
 Mills! 
 
 Mouse slipped away from her slender throat, and 
 
 she made a picture, vivid and In-autiful. The fatherhood 
 
 wit Inn Tlionms Singleton bounded in appreciation as he 
 
 d his daughter for a short space, measuring 
 
 accurately the worth within her. He caught the won-
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 13 
 
 derful 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, won- 
 derful 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."
 
 u ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 
 into a groan, looked long at the slim young figure, 
 fit the piquant face. 
 
 ".hi^t lutrly I've been wanting some one of my own to 
 love," she pursued. "I only had Milly and her cats. Then 
 tin- letter mine saving you'd be here and I'm very glad." 
 -mile lighting her face and playing with the dimples 
 in her cli<--ks made Thomas Singleton feel as if Heaven's 
 breath had touched him. 
 
 "Do you care at all for me?" he asked gloomily. 
 
 li.-id come over him a desire that this winsome 
 girl, winsome in spite of her crudity, would say she 
 did. \VoiK it r, lovr, sympathy, were alive in her eyes. 
 >dd< d IK r head. 
 
 "Oh, yi-*. M>!" she murmured. "Of course I love you! 
 I couldn't tell you how much. ... I love why, I even
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 15 
 
 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 some- 
 times. 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 visual-
 
 16 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 ize 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 for- 
 ward, 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 
 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, 
 
 to all appearances she looked happy and healthy. 
 
 rever, Mr. Singleton's eyes darkened and saddened 
 
 der the words. Nothing, perhaps, had ever touched 
 
 mm so deeply.
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 17 
 
 "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 acqui- 
 esced 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, bend- 
 ing 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
 
 18 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 living! Don't ever! Do you understand me? What I 
 mean U, wlu-n 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 re- 
 member." 
 
 "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 
 v< nrs 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, mistcrr" 
 
 , HIM! I'm going to ask you not to call me 'mister,' 
 cither. Look here! . . . I'm your father! Can't any- 
 thing gi-t that into your head?" 
 
 ep forgetting it," answered the girl sadly. "And 
 you're so big and thin and different from any man I know. 
 
 i look as weak as a as a cat." 
 She stretched forth her two strong legs, but sank back.
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 19 
 
 "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 tight- 
 ening 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 fol- 
 lowed 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 en- 
 hanced 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 ceme- 
 tery 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 glit- 
 tering 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.
 
 20 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "But he can't get us out, can he?" she questioned. 
 
 "Yes, I'm afraid he can and will! Your Uncle Jor- 
 dan is your mother's stepbrother, no direct rela- 
 tion 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 de- 
 sire 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. 
 
 "M:itty? 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 
 ! 'in. ... H.-r 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,
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 21 
 
 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 kit- 
 tens 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 some- 
 times 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."
 
 22 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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, pres- 
 ently, "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." 
 
 ' \Mrbbe 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 
 ombre 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 
 -t 
 
 Jinnie sprang forward and clutched him fiercely by the
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 23 
 
 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 Vir- 
 ginia 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 re- 
 minded 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?"
 
 24 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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, tumul- 
 tuous 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 passion- 
 ate 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."
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 25 
 
 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 sus- 
 pense left her. 
 
 "Why couldn't we both go, you and me?" she en- 
 treated 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 disap- 
 pointment. 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 com- 
 fortingly.
 
 "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 riot- 
 ous thoughts. As another gust of wind rattled the case- 
 ments 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. Single- 
 ton 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."
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 27 
 
 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 
 
 "Doss 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 ex- 
 plaining her words, . asked : "Want me to finish about 
 Jonathan Woggles' grandpa dyin'?" 
 
 But Virginia's mind was traveling in another channel. 
 
 NVhere's Bellaire, Matty?" she demanded. 
 
 "Off south," replied the woman, "right bearin' south." 
 
 "By train?"
 
 29 
 
 "Yes, the same's walkin' or fljin'," confirmed Matty. 
 "Jest the same." 
 
 "Then you can finish the story now, Matty," said Vir- 
 ginia 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 5 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."
 
 30 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 
 wag goin' to fly." 
 
 Virginia sat up very straight. Two spirits on the scene 
 of Grandpa Woggles' passing made the story more inter- 
 esting, 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
 
 A WHITE PRESENCE 31 
 
 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 ex- 
 pression 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 fall- 
 ing down in her frantic haste to reach the kitchen. Some- 
 thing 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
 
 32 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 cup- 
 board, 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 press- 
 ing 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 kit- 
 tens 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,
 
 A WHITE PRESENCE 33 
 
 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 twist- 
 ing 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 be- 
 tween 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
 
 34 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 in 
 
 JINNEE'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 sensa- 
 tion 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. Fol- 
 lowing 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 Vir- 
 ginia 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." 
 
 35
 
 36 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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?"
 
 JINNIE'S FAREWELL 37 
 
 "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 un- 
 clenched. 
 
 "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 
 idon'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 ter- 
 ribly unhappy and so miserable. . . . It's only lately 
 I've begun to be at all reconciled." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I will hear," snapped the man angrily.
 
 38 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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!" 
 
 "\\V11 leave that discussion until later. Begin back 
 where I told you to." 
 
 Molly's face was very white, and her lids drooped wear- 
 ily. 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 "
 
 JINNIE'S FAREWELL 39 
 
 "So you gave him away? Well, that's easy to over- 
 come. 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."
 
 40 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Th'e 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 sum- 
 mers." 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 lu-. "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."
 
 JINNIE'S FAREWELL 41 
 
 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. Pres- 
 ently 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 
 
 VIBGINIA 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 yes- 
 terdays 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 glim- 
 mered through the falling snow, Jinnie sighed with relief. 
 
 "I couldn't J ve carried you and the fiddle much farther, 
 Milly Ann," she murmured. 
 
 42
 
 JINNIE TRAVELS 43 
 
 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 ex- 
 amine 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 head- 
 light 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. To- 
 night 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
 
 44 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 be- 
 fore, an( J 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. 
 
 "Dh, 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."
 
 JINNIE TRAVELS 45 
 
 "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 rela- 
 tives, and Jinnie was glad he did not. 
 
 "Perhaps I shall see you some time in the city," he re- 
 sponded 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."
 
 46 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "No, I know," sai4 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 ob- 
 served 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 hesi- 
 tancy she took up the violin and unfastened it.
 
 JINNIE TRAVELS 47 
 
 "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, sweep- 
 ing 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 won- 
 drous 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 penetrat- 
 ing ; 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 melo- 
 dies. 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. \Yhat if the man
 
 48 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 con- 
 straint. 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 UKE 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 pos- 
 sessed 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 rail- 
 road tracks Virginia saw a man standing with his hands 
 thrust deep into his pockets. 
 
 "What'd you want of Lafe Grandoken?" asked the fel- 
 low 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." 
 
 49
 
 50 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 fur- 
 ther, 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 Grandokcn, 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 
 halt* (I, with his hammer in the air, at the sight of the 
 newcon
 
 LIKE UNTO LIKE ATTRACTED 51 
 
 "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 suffus- 
 ing her being that this small home might be hers. She 
 was so lonely, so homesick. The little room seemed ra- 
 diant 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
 
 M ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 young shoulders, she shivered in sudden joy. The sensa- 
 tion was delightful, and while a thin hand patted her back, 
 she choked down a hard sob. However, she pressed back- 
 ward 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 over- 
 burdened 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 hap- 
 piness. 
 
 "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
 
 LIKE UNTO LIKE ATTRACTED 53 
 
 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 help- 
 ing 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. SIXGLETON." 
 
 The cobbler put down the paper, and the rattling of it 
 made Jinnie raise her head. 
 
 "Come over here again," said the "rhoemaker, 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
 
 54 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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.
 
 LIKE UNTO LIKE ATTRACTED 55 
 
 "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 Jin- 
 nie." 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, or- 
 dered 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-mor- 
 row. With every new day there's always a chance. We've 
 got a chance, an' so's the girl."
 
 56 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 hus- 
 band. 
 
 "You oughter be ashamed," she growled darkly. "Ain't 
 you every day say in' there's always to-morrow?" 
 
 This time her voice was toned with finality, and she 
 turned and went out.
 
 I GUES8 THEY WON T EAT MUCH, BECAUSE MILLIE ANN CATCHES ALL KIND OF LIVE THINGS. 
 LIKE HER TO DO THAT, BUT I BEABD SHE WAS BOB* THAT WAT AND CAN*! 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 fright- 
 ened 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, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "I think it's awful nice, though," offered the girl. Some 
 thought closed her blue eyes, but they flashed open in- 
 stantly. 
 
 "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." 
 
 57
 
 58 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "She was a wee little bit cross to me," commented the 
 
 girl. 
 
 "Was she? I didn't hear anything she said." 
 
 'Til 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 or- 
 dered 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 Gran- 
 doken," 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
 
 PEG'S BARK 59 
 
 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 re- 
 turned 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 be- 
 gan 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 talk- 
 ing 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."
 
 60 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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, tell- 
 ing 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 al- 
 ways 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 or- 
 dinary good humor this day as she prepared the midday 
 meal. Her mind was busy with thoughts of the new bur- 
 den which the morning had brought. 
 
 Generally Lafe consulted her about any problem that 
 presented itself before him, but, that day, he had taken a
 
 PEG'S BARK 61 
 
 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. .1 mean one of them chose by Him to 
 
 believe." 
 
 "Believe what?" 
 
 "All that God said would be," explained Lafe, rever- 
 ently. 
 
 "And you believe it, cobbler?" 
 
 62
 
 JUST A JEW 63 
 
 "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 re- 
 minded 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, cheer- 
 fully. "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 shad- 
 owed almost instantly.
 
 64 ROSE O* PARADISE 
 
 "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 liim with : 
 
 "After that, Lafe, what then?" 
 
 "After that," repeated the cobbler, straightening his 
 shoulders, "after, that my legs went bad an' then an' 
 
 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 every- 
 body ; that in the lovin' father" Lafe raised his eyes
 
 JUST 'A JEW 65 
 
 "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 morn- 
 ings 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 long- 
 ing 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, every- 
 day 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 1 ain't sure but it's a 
 
 mite bigger."
 
 66 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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. 
 
 "Docs He IH lp a kid knock hell out of another kid when 
 that kid is beating a littler kid?"
 
 JUST A JEW 67 
 
 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, cob- 
 bler?" 
 
 Lafe put two nails into position in the leather sole and 
 idrove 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?"
 
 68 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "Yes," answered Virginia. 
 
 "Well, He said it was wicked." 
 
 An awe-strickeii 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 trun- 
 dled 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 sub- 
 dued 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 demon- 
 stration 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." 
 
 '*! have long ago, child, an' she's goin' to grt it, too. 
 That's one blessin' about belicvin'. No one nor nobody 
 can keep you from gettin' what's your own."
 
 JUST A JEW 69 
 
 "Mrs. Peggy doesn't think that way," remarked Vir- 
 ginia, 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 bis- 
 cuit?" 
 
 "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, Vir- 
 ginia Singleton, daughter of the rich, slept her tired sleep 
 amid the fighters of the world.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "EVERT 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 in- 
 terestedly in the shop. The cobbler allowed several bright 
 nails to fall into his palm before he answered the ques- 
 tion which was worrying the girl. 
 
 "There ain't no use troublin' about it, child," com- 
 mented 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 5 he can't get your money for seven years. That 
 makes him madder'n a hatter, of course." 
 
 70
 
 "EVERY HAND ITS SHARE" 71 
 
 "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 some- 
 where of some one you don't know; pray in' 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. Sud- 
 denly 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, kind- 
 ly 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, cob-
 
 72 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 bier, 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 cob- 
 bler presently, "an* I was workin' on one of them tall up- 
 town 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'ti 'Cause them times Peg didn't have 
 to work. We always had fires enough, an' didn't live like 
 this. But, as I was say in,' 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."
 
 "EVERY. HAND ITS SHARE" 73 
 
 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, be- 
 cause 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, dream-
 
 74 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 ing 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 gath- 
 ered a mist as he whispered, "Happy in spite of every- 
 thing 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
 
 "EVERY HAND ITS SHARE" 75 
 
 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, glanc- 
 ing downward at herself. 
 
 "I know a lot of kids who earn money," said Lafe med- 
 itatively. 
 
 "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
 
 76 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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're 
 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 likeli- 
 hood 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, stol- 
 idly, glancing at the girl's slender fingers. They looked 
 so small, so unused to hard work, that she turned away.
 
 "EVERY HAND ITS SHAKE" 77 
 
 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 ques- 
 tioningly upon her. Peggy thought of the hunger which 
 would be bound to come if any hands were idle, so she mut- 
 tered 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 to- 
 gether, 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 shoe- 
 maker list over the things that would make them com- 
 fortable. 
 
 Most delightful thoughts came to endow the girl's men- 
 tal world, which now reached from the cobbler's shop to 
 the marsh, over a portion of the city, and back again. It
 
 78 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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. Jin- 
 nie was recovering the independent spirit which had dom- 
 inated 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 side- 
 walk 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 Par- 
 adise 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. Jin- 
 nie's face was like that picture. 
 
 79
 
 80 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 biggcr'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:
 
 BY THE SWEAT OF HER BROW 81 
 
 "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 think- 
 ing 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, Jin- 
 nie," 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 be- 
 fore 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
 
 82 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 jour head . . . Here's your ten cents. . . . Now go 
 along." 
 
 After Jinnie had gone, Mrs. Grandoken sat down op- 
 posite her husband. 
 
 "The girl looks awful tired," she offered, after a mo- 
 ment'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 enougli 
 strength in her body to work ten times harder, but Peg 
 " Here Lafe stopped and looked out to the hill be- 
 yond 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 5 
 
 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 fore- 
 noon's work, and Jinnie, going from house to house later, 
 was often presented with a "hunk of pie," as she after- 
 wards 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 ex- 
 press 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. 
 
 83
 
 84 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 un- 
 happy 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.
 
 "HAPPY IN SPITE" 85 
 
 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 
 han<J. 
 
 "la 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 !"
 
 86 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 care- 
 fully 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 new- 
 comer 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 ex- 
 tra penny to buy food for this new friend. At this op- 
 portune 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 
 nodcll.-! . See?"
 
 "HAPPY; IN SPITE" 87 
 
 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'U eat this bit of meat."
 
 88 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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, ten- 
 derly. 
 
 "I dunno, but he's awful happy, now he's going to stay 
 with us." 
 
 "Call Mm '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 short- 
 wood 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 ten- 
 derness. 
 
 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 in- 
 stant 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 I* e ggy glanced at her, then away again, her eyes 
 
 shifting uneasily. 
 
 But after once taking a stand, Jinnie held her ground. 
 
 89
 
 90 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 stand- 
 ing. 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 ofFn your flesh, an* mebbe I'll do some- 
 thing 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.
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO JINNIE 91 
 
 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 beau- 
 tiful 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 tow- 
 ard 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.
 
 92 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 coun- 
 ter. "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 Maud- 
 lin, too ! How she detested his lustful, doltish eyes ! 
 
 She straightened her shoulders, considering. The wood
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO JINNIE 93 
 
 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 appro- 
 bation, 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, study- 
 ing 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 mar- 
 ket. 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, shift- 
 ing 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 !"
 
 94 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Faster and faster whirled Jinnie, the heft of the short- 
 wood 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 stag- 
 gered, 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 cob- 
 bler 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 prob- 
 lem 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 death- 
 bed. It was on nights like this that dead memories, with 
 
 95
 
 96 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 solemn mien, raced from their graves, haunting the lame 
 man. Even Lafe's wonderful portion of faith had di- 
 minished 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 recogni- 
 tion, 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 
 > bending over the bed, "and I cooked all the sau-
 
 WATCHING 97 
 
 sage, 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 rov- 
 ing round the room. She caught sight of the silent wo- 
 man, 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 
 
 98
 
 WHAT JTNNIE FOUND 99 
 
 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 to- 
 ward her, and still without a word Jinnie took the tremb- 
 ling 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.
 
 3100 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 eaegrly. "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 pres- 
 ently. "Happy Pete and me and Peg live at Lafe Gran- 
 doken'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
 
 WHAT JINNIE FOUND 101 
 
 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, ta 
 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 vio- 
 lets, the summer roses, that belt of wonderful color skirt- 
 ing the afternoon horizon, and all the wonders of nature 
 of which her romantic world consisted. The contrast be- 
 tween these and the shaking black dog, with his smudge of 
 tangled hair hanging over his eyes, shocked Jinnie's artis- 
 tic sense. 
 
 "If if you say he's beautiful, then he is," she stam- 
 mered 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?"
 
 102 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 her- 
 self. She wanted to cry, but instead she murmured, 
 "Happy in Spite," as Lafe had bidden her, and the melt- 
 ing 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 as- 
 serted, "and Lafe'll let you be his little boy too." 
 
 The blind child gasped, and the girl continued assur- 
 ingly, "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?"
 
 WHAT JINNIE FOUND 103 
 
 "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 re- 
 peated 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
 
 104 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 
 cast, 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 
 
 105
 
 106 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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, woman- 
 like, 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 yel- 
 low 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.
 
 "HE'S COME TO LIVE WITH US" 107 
 
 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 
 pff'n you are? Don't believe it! He can't stay here!"
 
 108 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 fin- 
 ished 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. Ill 
 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."
 
 "HE'S COME TO LIVE WITH US" 109 
 
 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 SATS 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 an- 
 other 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." 
 
 110
 
 "WHO SAYS THE KID CAN'T STAY?" Ill 
 
 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 de- 
 fiance. 
 
 "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 dark- 
 est. Now Peg's personal insult lined his clouds of fear
 
 112 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 big- 
 gest 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. . . . Any- 
 way, 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 Gran- 
 doken," she said, turning away sharply. "I wouldn't 
 make such a fuss over no one livin*. That's just what I 
 wouldn't."
 
 "WHO SAYS THE KID CAN'T STAY?" 113 
 
 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 melan- 
 choly 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 di- 
 rectly 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?"
 
 114 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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.
 
 "WHO SAYS THE KID CAN'T STAY?" 115 
 
 "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 
 
 JINNEE'S EAR GETS A TWEAK 
 
 BOBBIE had been at the Grandoken home scarcely a 
 week before Jinnie again got into difficulty. One morn- 
 ing, wide-awake, beside the blind boy, she happened to 
 glance toward the door. There stood Peg, her face dis- 
 torted 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 !" 
 
 116
 
 JINNIE'S EAR GETS A TWEAK 117 
 
 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. Gran- 
 doken. "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 modifica- 
 tion, 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 . . .1 hate 'em." 
 
 In the coarse nightdress Peggy had made for her, Jinnie 
 sat down beside Milly Ann. The yellow mother purred in
 
 118 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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'S EAR GETS A TWEAK 119 
 
 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.
 
 120 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 wo- 
 man'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. Grando- 
 ken'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."
 
 JINNIE'S EAR GETS A TWEAK 121 
 
 "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.
 
 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 Grsndoken. 
 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 af- 
 ternoons 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 estab- 
 lish a new customer or two. 
 
 122
 
 JINNIE DISCOVERS THRONE 123 
 
 Maudlin Bates had warned her not to enter his terri- 
 tory 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 auto- 
 mobile 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 conscious- 
 ness 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.
 
 124 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 1 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
 
 JINNIE DISCOVERS THRONE 125 
 
 d&y. 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. Un- 
 shed 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 be- 
 ing. 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 smil- 
 ing 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 de- 
 cided, "and fifty for what you're going to bring to-mor- 
 row. 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 unex- 
 pected 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."
 
 126 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 in- 
 stant 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 tell- 
 ing 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.
 
 JINNIE DISCOVERS THRONE 127 
 
 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 embar- 
 rassed. 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 dqllar 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 giv- 
 ing her the money. 
 
 Then his glance fell upon the bulging shortwood strap. 
 
 "I'm afraid you carry too much at a time," he admon- 
 ished, 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
 
 128 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 moemnt. 
 
 "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 EOSES AND YELLOW 
 
 THE days went on peacefully after the new arrange- 
 ments 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, com- 
 ing forward, holding out his hand. 
 
 129
 
 130 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 even- 
 ing " 
 
 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 suc- 
 cession. 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 Jin- 
 nie. "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 some- 
 thing ! You've a great gift a wonderful genius and out
 
 RED ROSES AND YELLOW 131 
 
 of such genius much money is made. ... I couldn't think 
 of letting you come here unless you allowed me to remu- 
 nerate you." 
 
 Jinnie listened attentively to all he said, but refusal 
 was still in her steady gaze. Mr. King, seeing this, con- 
 tinued 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 ar- 
 gument, 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 an- 
 swered 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."
 
 132 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Lafe's jaws dropped apart incredulously. 
 
 "Twenty-five dollars for play in* 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 instru- 
 ment 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.
 
 RED ROSES AND YELLOW 133 
 
 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 Laft, in answer to Jinnie's 
 impetuous speech. 
 
 Bobbie felt his way to the door, and Peggy came in an- 
 swer to the child's call. 
 
 "I only thought of the twenty-five dollars and the fid- 
 dling, 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."
 
 134 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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."
 
 RED ROSES AND YELLOW 135 
 
 Reverently Jinnie went to Mrs. Grandoken's side. She 
 felt abjectly humble in the presence of this great sacri- 
 fice. 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 kit- 
 ten as she sat watching Peg's stiff fingers making large 
 stitches in the lace. 
 
 "Oh, Peg, isn't it lovely? Perfectly beautiful! No- 
 body 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 Jin- 
 nie," she said querulously. "I didn't make 'em." 
 
 The girl's happiness was absolutely complete. The 
 dress would be finished and Sunday evening oh, Sun- 
 day 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, tug- 
 ging at her sleeve. 
 
 136
 
 'YOU NEEDN'T FEEL so GLAD NOR LOOK AS IF YOU WAS COIN' TO TUMBLE OVER. IT AIN'T NO CREDIT TO 
 
 ANYONE THEM CURTAINS WAS ON THE SHELF WAITIN 1 TO BE CUT UP IN A DRESS FOB YOU 
 TO FIDDLE IN."
 
 THE LITTLE FIDDLER 137 
 
 "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 go in' 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 ten- 
 derness. "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," re- 
 plied Peg "but I'll give her a piece of the curtains to 
 wrap it up in."
 
 138 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 su- 
 preme 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. "Won- 
 derful! . . . 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.
 
 THE LITTLE FIDDLER 139 
 
 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 cur- 
 tains, 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, tempt- 
 ing 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, smil- 
 ing, "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 fin- 
 gers. 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.
 
 140 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 har- 
 monies. The rapt young face gave no sign of embarrass- 
 ment, 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 ap- 
 plause 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. 
 
 S" 1 ? meditated one moment. Then thoroughly uncon- 
 scious 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
 
 THE LITTLE FIDDLER 141 
 
 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 vi- 
 brant, resonant, minor tone, measured, full and magnifi- 
 cent. 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 impet- 
 uous harmony swept softly through the lighted room. 
 Louder and louder was heard the awful fury of approach- 
 ing thunder, while twinkling string-touches flashed forth 
 the lightning between the sonorous peals. 
 
 Jinnie never knew how the fiddle was capable of ex- 
 pressing 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
 
 142 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 entertain- 
 ment," 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 an- 
 other 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 white- 
 ness 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." 

 
 THE LITTLE FIDDLER 143 
 
 "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 fing- 
 ers 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 cob- 
 bler 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.
 
 144 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 for- 
 got about the dress when she began to play," he mused. 
 "The sight of her face would drive all thoughts of incon- 
 gruity 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.
 
 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. 
 
 145
 
 146 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "Wait, child," he breathed hesitatingly. "Wait a min- 
 ute!" 
 
 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 shin- 
 ing 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
 
 THE COBBLER'S SECRET 147 
 
 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 look- 
 ing at her with luminous eyes, and the expression in them 
 that heavenly expression compelled Jinnie to kneel be- 
 side 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
 
 148 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 emo- 
 tions 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, Larc," 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, disap- 
 pointedly. "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.
 
 THE COBBLER'S SECRET 149 
 
 "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 rhyth- 
 mical harmony the peace within him. Jinnie was able to 
 put an estimate on his moods, and knew just what com- 
 fort he needed most. Until that moment Fie 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 be- 
 came 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 ! Theo-
 
 150 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 dore 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 riot- 
 ous 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 in- 
 visible 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 bab- 
 bling 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 COBBLER'S SECRET 151 
 
 The woman had taken on such a new dignity. She must 
 be treated with the greatest and most extra care. If Jin- 
 nie 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 
 raore'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, no- 
 body'll hurt you." 
 
 After leaving Lafe's message at the Bates' cottage, Jin- 
 nie 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?" 
 
 152
 
 THE COMING OF THE ANGELS 153 
 
 "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 mad- 
 der'n hell because that duffer King's been haulin' Jinnie's 
 wood. He says "
 
 154 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 short- 
 wood. 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 expres- 
 sion. 
 
 "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 Maud- 
 lin'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.
 
 THE COMING OF THE ANGELS 155 
 
 "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 eye- 
 ing 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 Ben- 
 nett 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 "
 
 156 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 Maud- 
 lin pulled her to him and closed her mouth with a large 
 hand, and Jinnie grew faint with fright and terror.
 
 THE COMING OF THE ANGELS 157 
 
 They were out of sight now of Paradise Road, still Jin- 
 nie 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 an- 
 gels, 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 teem- 
 ing with bright ecstatic beings, and multitudes of them 
 were hurrying through the warm summer air to the Bell- 
 aire 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 fidder 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.
 
 158 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 In the smallest fraction of a second Maudlin was sprawl- 
 ing 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 fin- 
 gers, 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "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 Laf e 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 Theo- 
 dore, with raised fist, was almost upon him.
 
 THE COMING OF THE ANGELS 159 
 
 "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, with- 
 out 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 mur- 
 mured 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 slen- 
 der, 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 cob- 
 bler's shop. 
 
 Lafe put down his hammer as they entered, and bade 
 King take a chair. Jinnie sat weakly on the bench be- 
 side 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 "
 
 160 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Theodore King rose to his feet, his face paling. Lafe, 
 smoothing Jinnie's head now buri?d 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 pro- 
 ceeded 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 
 3 r oung 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
 
 THE COMING OF THE ANGELS 161 
 
 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 dig- 
 nity. 
 
 "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 con- 
 tentedly. "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 state- 
 ment, 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."
 
 162 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Lafe shook his head. 
 
 "I couldn't take anything for me and Peggy," he an- 
 nounced 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 girl 
 walked rapidly homeward, she gazed at it with pride, and 
 began to plan how the woman's burdens could be light- 
 ened 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 Mer- 
 riweather. 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 after- 
 wards." 
 
 Jinnie's heart bounded. As yet Molly had not discov- 
 ered 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 invi- 
 tation 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. 
 
 163
 
 164 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 sec- 
 onds before she spoke again to bring to mind when Theo- 
 dore 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 
 iace 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 ex- 
 amined 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.
 
 MOLLY'S DISCOVERY 165 
 
 "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:
 
 166 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 Jinnic'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 }*ou 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 re- 
 gretted 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.
 
 MOLLY'S DISCOVERY 167 
 
 "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 di- 
 vulge 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 im- 
 petuous 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 "
 
 168 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 ma- 
 chine. 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 dis-
 
 MOLLY'S DISCOVERY 169 
 
 tance 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 expres- 
 sion 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 Merri- 
 weather. 
 
 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."
 
 170 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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. Be- 
 fore 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 Para- 
 dise 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 f ast-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. 
 
 171
 
 172 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 ejacu- 
 lation. 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 fol- 
 lowing 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 hap- 
 pened 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,
 
 NOBODY'S CAT 173 
 
 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.
 
 174 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 an- 
 other 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 hus- 
 band of her absorbing passion for Theodore King. 
 
 "I discovered it purely by accident," she went on, re- 
 lating the story. 
 
 Morse chewed the end of his cigar. 
 
 "Now what're you going to do ?" demanded Molly pres- 
 ently.
 
 NOBODY'S CAT 175 
 
 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 sud- 
 denly. "My God! I might have known she didn't be- 
 long 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?"
 
 176 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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.
 
 NOBODY'S CAT 177 
 
 "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 5 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?"
 
 178 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 MAKEY HEB," 
 
 "I DON'T see why you must have her out of the way en- 
 tirely," 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," an- 
 swered 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. 
 
 179
 
 180 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 con- 
 tinued, 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 go- 
 ing to ask you to marry him?" 
 
 "I'll make him," breathed Molly, with confidence. 
 
 "Well, go ahead," bantered Morse. "All I ask for re- 
 leasing you is that you'll help me rid myself of my beau- 
 tiful 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-natur- 
 edly, "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 !
 
 182 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 de- 
 cided 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
 
 HE MIGHT EVEN MARRY HER 183 
 
 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 cross- 
 eyed. . . . Lord, what fools women are !" 
 
 Molly left him angrily, and Morse, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders, 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 ex- 
 penses " 
 
 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.
 
 184 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "By far the prettiest," answered King without hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 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 dis- 
 gusted 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 pow- 
 erless 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. 
 
 185
 
 186 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 com- 
 mand : 
 
 "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 ap- 
 proached 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."
 
 WHEN THEODORE FORGOT 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 Para- 
 dise 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 sol- 
 diers 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 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 insist- 
 ence escaped Theodore's mind. When with Jinnie, ordi- 
 nary 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 be- 
 fore 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 bril- 
 liant 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 delib- 
 erately he replaced it. It would be easier to explain the 
 circumstances face to face with her, and no doubt en- 
 his mind but that the woman would be satisfied and
 
 WHEN THEODORE FORGOT 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 con- 
 fess." 
 
 "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 under- 
 stand " 
 
 His voice vibrated deeply when he spoke that name, and 
 the listener's love-laden ears caught the change imme- 
 diately. 
 
 "Well ?" she murmured in question. 
 
 "When I got there and saw her, I forgot about Satur- 
 day. 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 for- 
 getting 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 be-
 
 190 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 tween her and all her hopes. She took one step forwaro! 
 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 set- 
 tling 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 ab- 
 ruptly. "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 fee 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.
 
 WHEN THEODORE FORGOT 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 inter- 
 ested 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. 
 
 192
 
 MOLLY ASKS TO BE FORGIVEN 193 
 
 "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 ides- 
 peration 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.
 
 194 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 Theo- 
 dore 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, say- 
 ing 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.
 
 MOLLY ASKS TO BE FORGIVEN 195 
 
 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 in- 
 stantly 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 Jin- 
 nie 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 Theo- 
 dore 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." 
 
 196
 
 "HAVEN'T YOU ANY SOUL?" 197 
 
 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 ar- 
 mored 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, per- 
 haps because she was madly jealous. 
 
 "Men generally keep that sort of a woman to them- 
 selves," she explained. "A home is usually sacred to the 
 ordinary man."
 
 198 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 uncon- 
 trollable 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.
 
 "HAVEN'T YOU ANY SOUL?" 199 
 
 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 after- 
 noon." 
 
 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,
 
 200 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 cob- 
 bler'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 les- 
 sons ?" 
 
 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 THEODOEE 
 
 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, excus- 
 ing 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 re- 
 plied, 
 
 201
 
 202 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "You've been too kind already, Mr. King " 
 
 "It isn't a question of kindness, my dear Mr. Grand- 
 oken. 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 de- 
 picted 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."
 
 JINNIE DECIDES AGAINST THEO 203 
 
 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 Theo- 
 dore, 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 stub- 
 bornly, "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 ar- 
 rangements." 
 
 After he had gone, Peggy and Lafe sat for a long time 
 without a word. 
 
 "Go to the kitchen, Bobbie," said Mrs. Grandoken pres- 
 ently, "and give Happy Pete a bit of meat." 
 
 The boy paused in his stumbling way to the kitchen.
 
 204 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 5 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, drop- 
 ping into a chair. 
 
 Jinnie blanched in fright. 
 
 "My uncle !" she exclaimed, growing weak-kneed.
 
 JINNIE DECIDES AGAINST THEO 205 
 
 "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 remem- 
 bered Lafe's sad face and Bobbie's sharp, agonizing call- 
 ing of her name.
 
 206 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 re- 
 ply. "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 5 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, 
 
 207
 
 208 
 
 but never in all her life had she been so tempted to do any- 
 thing 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 re- 
 plied. 
 
 "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.
 
 PEG'S VISIT 209 
 
 "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 bet- 
 ter part of a minute. What did he mean? JVas it pos- 
 sible 
 
 "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."
 
 210 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 hus- 
 band. 
 
 "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 touch- 
 ing 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 Grando- 
 ken 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.
 
 PEG'S VISIT 211 
 
 Peggy came in embarrassedly. She had a mission to 
 perform which she very much disliked. 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Grandoken," said Theodore, hold- 
 ing 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' Jin- 
 nie 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 cr} r in' " 
 
 "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 } r ou?" 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. Theo- 
 dore King laughingly thanked her and shook her heartily
 
 212 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 un- 
 expected 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 chug- 
 ging motor. 
 
 "Then, to-morrow," he decided, driving up to the cob- 
 bler'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.
 
 PEG'S VISIT 213 
 
 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 con- 
 tentedly, 
 
 "My stars're all shinin' bright, Jinnie." 
 
 "Kiss me, both of you kids !" was all Lafe said.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEODORE 
 
 JINNEE 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 5 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." 
 
 214
 
 WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEO 215 
 
 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 pres- 
 ently. 
 
 "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
 
 216 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 his life in full sway, the man now imagined he saw creep- 
 ing 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 lul- 
 laby, 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 antece- 
 dents 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 sud- 
 denly 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 any- 
 thing 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. 
 
 Theodore turned, saw, and realized at that moment. 
 He discovered in her what he had long desired. She loved
 
 'PLAY FOB MF," THEODORE SAID. "STAND BY THAT BIG TREE so i CAN LOOK AT YOU.
 
 WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEO 217 
 
 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. Jin- 
 nie felt every muscle of his strongly fibered body grow 
 tense at her touch. She tried to draw away from his en- 
 circling arms, but the rise and fall of her bosom, girlishly 
 curved the small-girl shyess 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 won-
 
 218 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 ders 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 bab- 
 bling 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 ex- 
 pressed 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 fir- 
 mament 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.
 
 WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEO 219 
 
 He was close at her feet before he spoke, and simultan- 
 eously 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 inimi- 
 table 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.
 
 220 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 chil- 
 dren, 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 per- 
 sonal 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. 
 
 221
 
 222 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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, "Wherc'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. 
 
 "\\Y11, vou needn't look as if I were about to commit 
 some crime," he said, quizzing them with laughing eyes.
 
 WHAT THEO TOLD HIS FRIEND 223 
 
 "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
 
 224. ROSE O PARADISE 
 
 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 moth- 
 ers cared more for their children than fathers, but I'm 
 "M r that now since knowing you."
 
 WHAT THEO TOLD HIS FRIEND 225 
 
 "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 detec- 
 tives 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 Grand-
 
 226 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 okcn. 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 coulc 
 do nothing openly. If it were a mere case of filching 
 what little he could from Jinnie's estate before she be- 
 came 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 Para- 
 dise Road, and paused a second in front of Lafe Grando- 
 ken's shop to read the sign : 
 
 227
 
 228 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "Lafe Grandokcn: Cobbler of Folks' and Children's 
 Shoes and Boots." 
 
 His lips curled at the crude printing, and ' 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 be- 
 ing, 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 shoul- 
 ders was a shortwood strap. 
 
 At the sight of Mr. Morse, the wood gatherer hesitated, 
 made a sort of obeisance, and proceeded to move on. Jor- 
 dan 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. Maud- 
 lin 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 any- 
 thing that might be requested of him. 
 
 "Are you married ?" asked Morse. 
 
 Maudlin's face darkened. 
 
 "No," he grunted moodily.
 
 JORDAN MORSE'S PLAN 229 
 
 "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 in- 
 terested. 
 
 "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
 
 230 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 sum- 
 mer air, breaking among the branches of the trees. 
 
 "Why don't you steal 'er?" he demanded at length. 
 
 Bates' lower ja\v 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?" ques- 
 tioned 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?"
 
 231 
 
 "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 nothing" 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 mo- 
 rosely. "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 compan- 
 ion 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."
 
 232 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 Bates laughed evilly. 
 
 "That'll fix the huzzy. Anything about that damn fid- 
 dle'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 delight- 
 ful 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." 
 
 233
 
 234 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 happi- 
 ness 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 bring- 
 ing untold joy to him. Peggy seemed in brighter spirits, 
 and Jinnie's radiant face made Lafe rejoice. Little Bob- 
 bie'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
 
 THE MURDER 235 
 
 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 unsusually 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, pick- 
 ing 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, draw- 
 ing 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."
 
 236 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 ar- 
 rived. 
 
 "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
 
 THE MURDER 237 
 
 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 dis- 
 engaged?" 
 
 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," grunteid 
 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
 
 238 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 with- 
 out 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 thec, boy," he mur- 
 mured, 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
 
 THE MURDER 239 
 
 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, jump- 
 ing 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 Grand- 
 oken'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 
 
 240
 
 THE COBBLER'S ARREST 241 
 
 part of the house empty. Jinnie wasn't there ; at least I 
 didn't see her. Bates had already Inveigled Mrs. Grand- 
 oken 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.
 
 242 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 ex- 
 cited 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 af- 
 terthought, "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 hos- 
 pital 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. 
 
 4% .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 mys- 
 terious 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!"
 
 244 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 wheel- 
 chair, Jinnie's terrified fingers reached toward the cobbler, 
 and the sheriff gave her hand a sharp blow. Lafe ut- 
 tered 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 Police- 
 man 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, implor- 
 ingly, 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 police- 
 man'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.
 
 THE COBBLER'S ARREST 245 
 
 "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 con- 
 vulsions 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 glori- 
 fied 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."
 
 246 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 "
 
 THE COBBLER'S ARREST 247 
 
 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 Merri- 
 weather met at the hospital. They looked into each 
 other's eyes, not daring to mention the terrible conster- 
 nation that possessed them. 
 
 "Have you heard anything?" murmured Molly, glanc- 
 ing 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 dread- 
 ful 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 mys- 
 tery, 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: 
 
 248
 
 ALONE IN THE SHOP 249 
 
 "What man?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard? They've arrested Lafe Grando- 
 ken. 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 suj. 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 ex-
 
 250 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 haustion, 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 de- 
 manded. 
 
 -\o." 
 
 "How'd he go, in a motor car?"
 
 ALONE IN THE SHOP 251 
 
 "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 for- 
 ward and stood beside the bench. It seemed to be senti- 
 ently 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 prom- 
 ised 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, rever- 
 ently 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 corn- 
 ers, 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
 
 252 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 look- 
 ing 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 blink- 
 in' out." 
 
 Mrs. Grandoken and Jinnie had come to an under- 
 standing 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 
 
 253
 
 254 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 exclama- 
 tion, 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, har- 
 rowed 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. SKe 
 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 every- 
 body, 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 througK 
 their veil of darkness to seek the speaker's meaning.
 
 256 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 cob- 
 bler, 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 Maud- 
 lin 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 woe- 
 begone 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
 
 JINNIE EXPLAINS TO BOBBIE 257. 
 
 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 ap- 
 peal. 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.
 
 258 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 make 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 whim- 
 pered 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 sat- 
 isfy him. She wouldn't have lied for her own welfare
 
 JINNIE EXPLAINS TO BOBBIE 259 
 
 but for Bobbie she could feel the weak, small heart pal- 
 pitating 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 Bob- 
 bie'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:
 
 260 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 dis- 
 belief. 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 be- 
 lieve 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.
 
 JINNIE EXPLAINS TO BOBBIE 261 
 
 "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 some- 
 how 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 sit- 
 ting 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 unbear- 
 able. 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, Theo- 
 dore 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 consti- 
 tution 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 hus- 
 
 262
 
 WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT 263 
 
 band. 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. Sev- 
 eral 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 palpi- 
 tating heart was wrung so agonizingly that he was con- 
 stantly 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 stay in' 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.
 
 264 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 com- 
 fort of which she was capable. 
 
 Long after midnight, the rain still came down in thrash- 
 ing 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 im- 
 penetrable 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.
 
 WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT 265 
 
 "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 al- 
 leviate 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 mam- 
 my'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 ?"
 
 266 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 roar- 
 ing 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. 
 
 I* c ggy almost sat up in bed. 
 
 "Darlin'," she quivered. "Darlin* girl, I've been cussed
 
 WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT 267 
 
 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 STOEY 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 thin- 
 ner 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 !" 
 
 268
 
 THE STORY OF A BIRD 269 
 
 "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 nat- 
 ural, 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.
 
 270 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 trick- 
 led 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 sec him I'll tell him you didn't." 
 
 And as if that settled it, she turned to go; then hesi- 
 tating, 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 !"
 
 THE STORY OF A BIRD 271 
 
 "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 pro- 
 tectingly. 
 
 "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
 
 272 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 shoul- 
 ders 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 fel- 
 ler. 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-col-
 
 THE STORY OF A BIRD 273 
 
 ored 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 short- 
 wood, 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 Theo- 
 
 274
 
 clore 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 un- 
 truth, 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 some- 
 thing 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 clay
 
 276 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 hesi- 
 tated. 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 ani- 
 mal 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'S VISIT TO THEODORE 277 
 
 Jinnie looked straight at her without a sign of acquies- 
 cence. 
 
 "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 re- 
 plied a trifle mockingly. "Mr. King's too sick to be in- 
 terested 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 com- 
 punction.
 
 278 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 terri- 
 ble Paradise Road. It's no place for a girl in your po- 
 sition." 
 
 "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 sug- 
 gested. "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 "
 
 JINNIE'S VISIT TO THEODORE 279 
 
 "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 Bob- 
 bie." 
 
 "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."
 
 280 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 of- 
 fended. "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 
 clon'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 some- 
 times '* 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 HEAET 
 
 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 intui- 
 tive dislike of him; but because he was a friend of Theo- 
 dore'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 di- 
 rection she took every day to visit the master, and the 
 very familiarity of it turned aside any question that arose 
 
 281
 
 282 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 in her mind. As he helped her from the machine, &iie 
 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 ex- 
 plained good-naturedly. "She wants you to go with her 
 to the hospital." 
 
 Jinnie's mind flew to that one time she had visited Theo- 
 dore'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 smil- 
 ingly bade her enter. There was so little natural suspic- 
 ion in the girl's heart that she never questioned the pro- 
 priety, 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 anx- 
 ious 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 pre- 
 paring a surprise for Mr. King."
 
 AN APPEAL TO JINNIE'S HEART 283 
 
 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 her- 
 self 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 win- 
 dow. The building stood high on a large wooded bluff 
 overlooking a deep gorge. The landscape before her in- 
 terested 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 no- 
 ticed 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 Bob- 
 bie, 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
 
 284 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 gathering dusk the hills and gorge had fallen into voice- 
 less silence, and because her nerves tingled with vague 
 fear, Jinnie drew the curtains to shut out the yawning 
 dark, and lighted 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 
 
 JINNEE'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 intention- 
 ally imprisoned her, they must have left her something to 
 eat. Investigation brought forth some cold meat, a bot- 
 tle of milk, and some bread. Jinnie ate all she could swal- 
 low. 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 build- 
 ing, 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 
 
 285
 
 286 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 door, a key grated in the lock, and the man who Ka3 
 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
 
 JINNIE'S PLEA 287 
 
 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 truthiat her. 
 
 "The only friends you have're out of business ! Lafe 
 Grandoken will be electrocuted for murder "
 
 288 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 ven- 
 geance 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 ac- 
 quiescence, 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!"
 
 JINNIE'S PLEA 289 
 
 "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 pa- 
 tience, 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 state- 
 ment 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, Grand- 
 oken knows too much about me. He won't be the first one 
 I've put out of my way."
 
 290 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 Lafc 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'S PLEA 291 
 
 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 Bob- 
 bie?" she cried hysterically. "He can't see and he's sick, 
 terribly ill all the time. I'll do anything you say any- 
 thing 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 mo- 
 ment'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 men- 
 acing shadow had crossed her life. Then her eyes lowered
 
 292 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 mechani- 
 cally, but when she saw the well-known writing, she trem- 
 bled so she nearly dropped the missive from her fingers. 
 She went into the shop, where Bobby 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 Bob- 
 bie 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, 
 
 "JlNNIE." 
 
 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 anld love 
 to you. She had to go away for a few days. . . . Now
 
 JINNIE'S PLEA 293 
 
 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 pres- 
 ently. 
 
 Bobbie ran his fingers over the paper, trying with sen- 
 sitive 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 be- 
 tween 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 foosteps 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 Jin- 
 nie?" 
 
 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 sec '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. 
 
 294
 
 BOBBIE TAKES A TRIP 295 
 
 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 Jim, 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 thrash- 
 ing 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 compos- 
 ing 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 fig- 
 ure. Happy Pete recognized her with a wild yelp, wrig- 
 gled 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.
 
 296 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 at- 
 tack 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 mys- 
 terious disappearance of the boy. When she returned 
 home, she searched every lane leading to the marshes un- 
 til 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 anx- 
 iety a little when a new resolution was born in her stub- 
 born heart. If they all came back to the shop, she'd make 
 up to them in some way for her ugly conduct. With this
 
 BOBBIE TAKES A TRIP 297 
 
 resolve, she went home to her own baby, sorrowful, dejected 
 and lonely. 
 
 All the evening while Peg was mourning for them, Jin- 
 nie 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 beau- 
 tiful stars !" 
 
 "Bobbie, Bobbie, you'll be sick if you scream that way. 
 There, there, honey !" Jinnie hushed him gently.
 
 298 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "I want to be 'Happy in Spite'," the boy went on. But 
 his words brought before the pale girl that old, old mem- 
 ory 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 be- 
 loved 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 Mer- 
 riweather 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 Grand- 
 oken 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 en- 
 tered softly and for a moment stood gazing at him ad- 
 miringly. How very handsome he was, even with the hos- 
 pital 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. 
 
 299
 
 300 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 pil- 
 low. Theodore turned to her after she had reseated her- 
 self. 
 
 "Molly," he began, "do you know where Jinnie Grand- 
 oken 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. Grand- 
 oken 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."
 
 THEODORE SENDS FOR MOLLY 301 
 
 "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 tem- 
 ples, 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 Jin- 
 nie'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 be- 
 cause of a certain emphasis in Molly's. 
 
 "I don't like to hurt you while you're ill," she ven- 
 tured. 
 
 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 throb- 
 bing first with desire, then with anger, and laid her white 
 fingers in his. 
 
 "Tell me," insisted Mr. King.
 
 802 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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, sound- 
 less 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 ?"
 
 THEODORE SENDS FOR MOLLY 303 
 
 "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 oldtime eagerness. He was partly sit- 
 ting 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 witK a few more words, went 
 out. Once at home in her bedroom, she sat down, breath- 
 ing deeply. With a hearty good will she could have torn 
 the letter into shreds, but instead she ripped open the en- 
 velope 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 ORDEE TO JINNEE 
 
 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 be- 
 haved better." Morse's face became positively brutal un- 
 der 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. Jin- 
 nie advanced impulsively. 
 
 304
 
 MOLLY GIVES AN ORDER 305 
 
 "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 sleep- 
 ing child. The only time she cared to hear him mentioned 
 was when Jordan told her of Jinnie's anguish over his
 
 306 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 : 
 
 "Mr 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."
 
 MOLLY GIVES AN ORDER 307 
 
 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 let- 
 ter " 
 
 "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.
 
 308 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 de- 
 manded, 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 let- 
 ter once more. It lay on the floor, the words gleaming 
 
 309
 
 310 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 up at her in sinister mockery. She tore her eyes from it, 
 snaking 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.
 
 A LETTER TO THEODORE 311 
 
 "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 shud- 
 dered 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 les- 
 son 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 sud- 
 den 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.
 
 812 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 de- 
 manded. 
 
 "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 in- 
 tends 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
 
 A LETTER TO THEODORE 313 
 
 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 re- 
 newed 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."
 
 314 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 be- 
 fore her. 
 
 "I won't write it, I won't," she droned to herself insist- 
 ently. 
 
 Morse sprang forward and grasped the child. 
 
 "Get up," he hissed. 
 
 Bobbie scrambled up because he was made to. He ut- 
 tered 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 
 1 tt> r. She sat down to read it once more. 
 
 It was short, concise, and to the point.
 
 A LETTER TO THEODORE 315 
 
 "ME. 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, show- 
 ing 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 hand- 
 writing, 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" 
 
 " JINNEE, 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 her- 
 self ! How she longed for Paradise Road, with its row of 
 shacks, Peggy and i^he 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 beck- 
 oned 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." 
 
 816
 
 "BUST 'EM OUT" 317 
 
 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 re- 
 sponded, and looking at the angry, beautiful face, he ejac- 
 ulated, "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."
 
 318 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 palpi- 
 tation 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!"
 
 "BUST 'EM OUT" 319 
 
 "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 whis- 
 pered 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.
 
 320 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 al- 
 ways 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 whis- 
 pered, 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 Laf e taught you ?" 
 
 The child bobbed his head. 
 
 "Sure," he concurred. " 'Now I lay me' and 'Our 
 Father which art in Heaven.' ... I know them, Jin- 
 nie." 
 
 "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 win- 
 dow."
 
 "BUST 'EM OUT" 321 
 
 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 ex- 
 tremely 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 bo} r , 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
 
 322 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 beyond. Then her eyes swept over the side of the build- 
 ing, 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, glanc- 
 ing 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
 
 "BUST 'EM OUT" 323 
 
 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 catch- 
 ing 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 lov- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Bobbie," she said, touching his hair with her lips, 
 "how much do you love Jinnie?" 
 
 "More'n all the world," replied Bobbie without hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 "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 ex- 
 plained, "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 :
 
 324 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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 shud- 
 dered, 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 jump- 
 in' 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."
 
 "BUST 'EM OUT" 325 
 
 Then they began their long, perilous journey to the 
 corner of the building. It must have taken twenty min- 
 utes. 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 dread- 
 fully 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
 
 326 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 down- 
 ward 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 whis- 
 per: "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, sob- 
 bing 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,
 
 328 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 wheel- 
 chair, 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 cob- 
 bler 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 street- 
 car 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 won- 
 dered 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 Jinnic 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 to-
 
 BOBBIE'S STARS RENEW SHINING 329 
 
 gether into the deep abyss, preferring death to uncer- 
 tainty. They were gone gone over the ragged rocks, 
 where their bodies would be lost in some of the fathom- 
 less 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 re- 
 lieved 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 pres- 
 ently, 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
 
 330 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 wheel chair, 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
 
 BOBBIE'S STARS RENEW SHINING 331 
 
 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 re- 
 membered 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 improvis- 
 ing on the fiddle strings a wild, pleading, imploring mel- 
 ody. 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
 
 332 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 "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. Spon- 
 taneously 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, trem- 
 bling 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 perse- 
 cuted and tortured, the boy he had made suffer, was his 
 own son. That wonderful quality in the man, the father- 
 hood within him, rose in surging insistence. Instant re- 
 morse 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 Bob- 
 bie's angels bore away his young soul to another world 
 whcTC 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 reflec-
 
 BOBBIE'S STARS RENEW SHINING 333 
 
 tion 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 cling- 
 ing 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 consterna- 
 tion 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 turn- 
 ing to the jury he continued: "The cobbler's an inno- 
 cent 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, fran- 
 tically clutching the slender body of Bobbie closer and 
 toppled over.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 FOR BOBBIE'S SAKE 
 
 LAKE'S homecoming was one of solemn rejoicing. The 
 only shadow hanging over the happy family was the ab- 
 sence 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 count y'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. 
 
 884
 
 FOR BOBBIE'S SAKE 335 
 
 Jinnie went to the door and there stood Molly Merri- 
 weather. 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 hanids. 
 
 "Don't, please don't say those things! I'm so miser- 
 able I can't think of him. I only wanted to know how 
 you got him."
 
 336 
 
 "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 Bob- 
 bie'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."
 
 FOR BOBBIE'S SAKE 337 
 
 Jinnie's eyes drew down at the corners. 
 
 "Of course ho 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?" grasped 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 stub- 
 bornly. 
 
 "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 de- 
 manded. 
 
 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
 
 338 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 wickedness, his devotion would increase a hundredfold. 
 He must not see Jinnie ! Jinnie must not see him ! Rap- 
 idly 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 Theo- 
 dore, 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.
 
 FOR BOBBIE'S SAKE 389 
 
 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 Theo- 
 dore 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 "
 
 340 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 Mott- 
 ville 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 thanks- 
 giving 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 flut- 
 tering of the forest birds high above her head. As she 
 
 341
 
 342 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 stood on the hill, the only human being in all the wilder- 
 ness 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 re- 
 proach swept over her at the thought of her forgetful- 
 ness 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 be- 
 longed 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 in- 
 sipid 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 ad-
 
 BACK HOME 343 
 
 vancing (lark, 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 pic- 
 tures, 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 un-
 
 344 
 
 opened door. Somehow it seemed as if she would find be- 
 fore 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 ner imagination 
 she could again see the flake-like ashes, thrown out from 
 the smoldering fire, rise grey to the ceilir g, then descend 
 silently over him like a pale shroud. 
 
 After this hesitation, she slowly turne.l 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 ard 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 be- 
 fore the window, awestricken. 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
 
 BACK HOME 345 
 
 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 over- 
 hanging 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 for- 
 gotten 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 Bcllaire for a season." 
 
 "We might consider it," he replied reluctantly. Then 
 he fell to thinking of a blue-eyed girl, of the letter, that 
 
 346
 
 "GOD MADE YOU MINE" 847 
 
 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 mo- 
 ment 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, rest- 
 ing 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, anc* 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."
 
 348 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 Theo- 
 dore'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?"
 
 "GOD MADE YOU MINE" 349 
 
 "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
 
 850 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 opened it and took the papers through the smallest im- 
 aginable 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 ejacula- 
 tions 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 wretch- 
 edness 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.
 
 "GOD MADE YOU MINE" 851 
 
 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 Theo- 
 dore 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.
 
 352 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 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 
 teach 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 with- 
 out 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 vrry 
 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
 
 '" ///