ppose 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 terrible Paradise Road. It's no place for a girl in your
position."

"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 suggested. "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----"

"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 Bobbie."

"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."

Jinnie got up a