y fell upon a crown of golden hair above a pair of
dark eyes she vividly remembered. The glance took her back to that
night more than two years before--to the night when her father died.

Molly Merriweather was seated in queenly fashion in one of the large
chairs, a questioning look stealing over her countenance. Jinnie
smiled at her and began to play. It might have been the beautiful
woman opposite that brought forth the wild hill story, told in
marvelous harmonies. The rapt young face gave no sign of
embarrassment, for Jinnie was completely lost in her melodious task.
Above the dimpled chin that hugged the brown fiddle, Theodore King
could see the brooding genius of the girl, and longed to bring a
passionate lovelight for himself into the glorious eyes. The intensity
of the music established in him an unconquerable hope--a hope that
could not die as long as life was in him, as long as life was in the
little fiddler.

As Jinnie finished with dramatic brilliancy, great applause and
showers of congratulations fell upon her ears. Theodore went to her
quickly.

"Wonderful! Splendid, child!" he declared joyously. "You're a
genius!"

His words increased her joy--his compelling dark eyes added to her
desire to do her best.

She meditated one moment. Then thoroughly unconscious of herself,
turned and spoke to the audience.

"I'll play about fairies ... the ones who live in the woods and hide
away in the flowers and under the leaves."

Once more she began to play. She believed in fairies with all her
heart and had no doubt but that every one else did. Under the spell of
her music and her loveliness, imaginary elves stole from the solitude
of the summer night, to join their tiny hands and dance to the rhythm
of her song.

As she lowered her violin and looked around, she saw astonishment on
the faces of the strangers about her. A deathlike hush prevailed and
Jinnie could hear the feverish blood as it struck at her temples.
Into her eyes came an unfathomable expression, and Theodore King,
attracted by their latent passion, went rapidly to her.

"It's exquisite!" he said vehemently. "Can't you see how much every
one likes it?"

"Do you?" queried Jinnie, looking up at him.

"I love it, child; I love it.... Will you play again, please?"

A flame of joy suffused her as again she turned to the open-eyed
crowd.

"Once," she informed them, "a big lion was hurt in the forest by
lightning.... This--is--how he died."

S