th Grandoken's arrest, though."

"But you've still to reckon with Jinnie," ventured Molly.

"Easy now," returned the man. "I'll get her before Theodore is well."

"Take me home," pleaded Molly wearily. "Such a day as this is enough
to ruin all the good looks a woman ever had."

Disgustedly, Jordan flung open the motor door.

"Well, my God, you've got about as much brains and heart as a
chipmunk. Climb in!"

Later, as the two separated, Morse said, with low-pitched voice:

"Now, then, I'm going to plan to get Jinnie. Might's well be hung for
a sheep's a lamb----I'm just as well satisfied that Bates is dead.
After I secure Jinnie--then for my boy. God! I can scarcely wait until
I have him."

Miss Merriweather went into the house in utter exhaustion, nor did
she pause to take off her hat before telling Theodore's mother the
little she could to encourage her.

If Molly was suffering over the crime which had sent the man she loved
to the hospital, Jinnie was going through thrice that agony for the
same man. He had almost met his death in coming to tell Lafe of their
love, and had been struck down in his mission by an unknown hand.
Jinnie knew it was an unknown hand, because just as sure as she lived,
so sure was she that Lafe had not committed the crime. The cobbler had
explained it all to her, and she believed him. Peggy was dreadfully
ill! After her fainting spell, the girl put Mrs. Grandoken to bed, and
then went to comfort Bobbie. She found him huddled on his pillow,
clasping Happy Pete in his arms. The small face was streaked with
tears and half buried from sight.

"Bobbie," called Jinnie softly.

The yellow head came up with a jerk, the flashing grey eyes begging in
mute helplessness an explanation for these unusual happenings.

"I'm here, Jinnie. What's the matter with everybody?"

Jinnie lay down beside him.

"Peggy's sick," she said, not daring to say more.

"Where's Lafe?"

An impulsive arm went across the child's body.

"He's gone away for a little while, dear, just for a few days!"

Something in her tones made Bobbie writhe. With the acuteness of one
with his affliction, his ears had caught the commotion in the shop.

"But he can't walk, Jinnie. Did he walk?" he demanded.

"No."

"How'd he go, in a motor car?"

"No," repeated the girl.

"Some one took him, then?" demanded Bobbie.

"Yes."

"In a wagon?"

By this time she could feel the tip-tap of his anguished heart against
hers.