dded, 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 Bobbie?" she cried
hysterically. "He can't see and he's sick, terribly ill all the time.
I'll do anything you say--anything 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 moment'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
menacing shadow had crossed her life. Then her eyes lowered 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 mechanically, but when she
saw the well-known writing, she trembled so she nearly dropped the
missive from her fingers. She went into the shop, where Bobbie 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.

* * * *