came in for their share. Peg looked so sour, so forbidding, that
Jinnie only faltered,

"Much obliged, Peggy darling.... Oh, I'm so happy!" She stood directly
in front of Mrs. Grandoken. "Aren't you, dear?" she besought.

"We're all glad, lass," put in the cobbler.

Jinnie's blue, blue eyes were seeking approbation from the gaunt,
frowning woman.

"None of you've got the sense of my bedpost," snapped Peg, sniffing
the air. "Get along. They're waitin' for you."

Jinnie arrived in great excitement at Theodore King's door. She
stumbled up the stone steps of the mansion with the fiddle carefully
wrapped under her arm.

"Is Mr. King here?" she asked of the maid, hesitatingly.

She stood very still, scarcely breathing, until they called the master
of the house, and as Theodore's eyes fell upon the lace dress, with
its red and yellow roses and green vines running the length of the
slim young figure, he smoothed away a smile that forced itself to his
lips.

Out of gratitude to Peggy, Jinnie felt she ought to speak of the
frock, so with an admiring glance downward, she confided:

"Peggy made my dress out of her dead mother's curtains, and gave me
this piece for my fiddle.... Wasn't it lovely of her?"

The pleading, soulful, violet eyes stirred Theodore King with a new
sensation. He had passed unscathed through the fires of imploring,
inviting glances and sweet, tempting lips, nor yet realized that some
day this black-haired girl would call him to a reckoning.

"It's very pretty, very pretty," he affirmed hurriedly. "I'm glad
you're here.... Just wait for a moment. I'll come back for you."

There was a fixed line between his handsome eyes as he faced his
guests. Theodore couldn't analyze his feelings toward Jinnie, but he
was determined none should make sport of her.

"I've prepared a great treat for you," he stated, smiling, "but I want
to ask you to overlook anything that may seem incongruous, for the
musician is very sensitive."

Then he went back for Jinnie, and she followed him into the large
room. The gorgeous red and yellow roses in the limply hanging blouse
lent a color to her sunburned skin.

"You may play anything you like," Theodore whispered.

"All right," nodded Jinnie.

She unwrapped the fiddle and tuned it with nimble fingers. Not until
she placed the instrument under her chin did she raise her head. Her
eyes went searchingly from face to face of the attentive assembly. It
so happened that the