CHAPTER XVIII
RED ROSES AND YELLOW
The days went on peacefully after the new arrangements for theshortwood. Every other day, at twelve o'clock, one of Theodore King'scars waited for Jinnie at the head of the path leading into themarsh.
When the weather was stormy, Bennett, the chauffeur, took the wood,telling Jinnie to run along home.
All this made it possible for Jinnie to study profitably during thewarm months, and by the last of August she had mastered many difficultsubjects. Lafe helped her when he could, but often shook his headdespondently as she sat down beside him on the bench, asking hisadvice.
"The fact is, honey, I ain't got much brains," he said to her oneafternoon. "If I hung by my neck till I could see through themfigures, I'd be as dead as Moses."
One Thursday morning, as she climbed into the big car with her load,Bennett said,
"I ain't goin' to pay you this mornin'! The boss'll do it. Mr. Kingwants to see you."
Jinnie nodded, her heart pounding.
It was delightful to contemplate seeing him once more. She wonderedwhere he had been all these days and if he had thought of her.Jinnie's pulses were galloping along like a race horse. She stoodquietly until the master was called, and he came quickly withoutmaking her wait.
"I'm going to ask you to do me a favor," he said, coming forward,holding out his hand.
Now when Jinnie first heard that he wished to see her, she thought herheart could beat no faster, but his words made that small organ tattooagainst her sides like the flutter of a bird's wing in fright. Shecould do something for him! Oh, what joy! What unutterable joy!
"We're going to have some friends here Sunday evening----"
The sudden upfling of Jinnie's head cut off his words.
What difference would his having friends make to her? Oh, yes, theywanted more wood. How gladly she would get it for him; search all dayfor the driest pieces if he needed them!
"I was wondering," proceeded Mr. King, "if you would come here withyour violin and play for--for--us?"
Jinnie's knees relaxed and she staggered back against the wall.
"You musn't feel embarrassed about it," he hurried on. "I'd be verymuch indebted to you if you thought you could."
Tears were so perilously near Jinnie's lids that some of them rolledinto her throat. To regain her self-possession enough to speak, sheswallowed several times in rapid succession. Such a compliment she'dnever been paid before. She brought her hands together appealingly,and Mr. King noticed that his request had heightened her color.
"I'd love to do it," she breathed.
"Of course I'll pay you for it," he said, not able to think ofanything else,
"I couldn't take any money for fiddling," replied Jinnie. "But I'llcome. Lafe says money can't be made that way."
She turned to go, but Mr. King detained her.
"Wait a minute," he insisted. "I want to tell you something! You've agreat gift--a wonderful genius--and out of such genius much money_is_ made.... I couldn't think of letting you come here unless youallowed me to remunerate you."
Jinnie listened attentively to all he said, but refusal was still inher steady gaze. Mr. King, seeing this, continued quickly:
"I want you very much, but on that one point I must have my way. Ishall give you twenty-five dollars for playing three pieces."
Then Jinnie thought she was going to faint. Twenty-five dollars! Itwas a fortune--a huge fortune! But she couldn't take money for playingtunes that came from her heart--tunes that were a part of herself thesame as her hands or feet. But before she could offer anotherargument, the man finished hurriedly:
"It's settled now. You're to come here Sunday night at eight. I'llsend for you."
Lafe was sitting at the window as she ran through the shortcut alongthe tracks. Her curls were flying in the wind, her cheeks glowing withflaming color. Every day the cobbler loved her more, for in spite ofthe dark soil in which Jinnie thrived, she grew lovelier in spirit andface.
He waved his hand to her, and both of her arms answered his salute.When the door burst open, Lafe put down his hammer expectantly. Beforehe could speak, she was down upon her knees at his side, her curlyhead buried in his loving arms, and tears were raining down her face.
Lafe allowed her to cry a few moments. Then he said:
"Something's hurt my lassie's heart.... Somebody!... Was it Maudlin?"
Through the tears shone a radiant smile.
"I'm crying for joy, Lafe," she sobbed. "I'm going to play my fiddleat Mr. King's house and make twenty-five dollars for three tunes."
Lafe's jaws dropped apart incredulously.
"Twenty-five dollars for playin' your fiddle, child?"
Jinnie told all that had happened since leaving home.
Then Peggy had to be told, and when the amount of money was mentionedand Jinnie said:
"It'll all be yours, Peggy, when I get it,"
Mrs. Grandoken grunted:
"You didn't make your insides, lassie. It ain't to your credit you canfiddle, so don't get stuck up."
Jinnie laughed gaily and went to the kitchen, where for two hours,with Bobbie curled up in the chair holding Happy Pete, she broughtfrom the strings of the instrument she loved, mournful tunes mingledwith laughing songs, such as no one in Bellaire had ever heard.
Over and over, as Lafe listened, he wondered where and how such musiccould be born in the child--for Jinnie, to the lame cobbler, wouldalways be a little, little girl.
Later Jinnie went to the store, and when Peggy had watched her crossthe street, she sat down in front of her husband.
"Lafe," she said, "what's the kid goin' to wear to King's?... Shecan't go in them clothes she's got on."
Lafe looked up, startled.
"Sure 'nough; I never thought of that," he answered. "An' I don'tbelieve she has uther."
It was the cobbler who spoke to Jinnie about it.
"I suppose you hain't thought what you're going to wear Sundaynight?"
Jinnie whirled around upon him.
"Oh, Lafe!" she faltered, sitting down quickly.
"Peggy 'lowed you'd forgotten that part of it."
"I did, Lafe; I did! Oh, I don't know what to do!"
"I wisht I had somethin' for you, Jinnie dear," breathed Bobbie,touching her hand.
Jinnie's only response was to put her fingers on the child's head--hereyes still on the cobbler.
"What did Peggy say, Lafe?"
"Nothin', only you couldn't go in the clothes you got."
Jinnie changed her position that she might see to better advantage theplain little dress she was wearing.
"But I've got to go, Lafe; oh, I've got to!" she insisted. "Mr. Kingwants me.... Please, Lafe, please!"
"Call Peggy, Bobbie," said Lafe, in answer to Jinnie's impetuousspeech.
Bobbie felt his way to the door, and Peggy came in answer to thechild's call.
"I only thought of the twenty-five dollars and the fiddling, Peggy,"said Jinnie as Mrs. Grandoken rolled her hands in her apron and satdown. "Did you say I couldn't go in these clothes?"
"I did; I sure did. You can't go in them clothes, an' what you'regoin' to wear is more'n I can make out. I'll have to think.... Justlet me alone for a little while."
It was after Jinnie had gone to bed with Bobbie that Peg spoke aboutit again to Lafe.
"I've only got one thing I could rig her a dress out of," she said. "Idon't want to do it because I hate her so! If I hated her any worse,I'd bust!"
The cobbler raised his hand, making a gesture of denial.
"Peggy, dear, you don't hate the poor little lass."
"Yes, I do," said Peg. "I hate everybody in the world but you....Everybody but you, Lafe."
"What'd you think might make a dress for 'er?" asked Grandokenpresently.
Before answering, Peg brought her feet together and looked down at hertoes. "There's them lace curtains ma give me when she died," she said."Them that's wrapped up in paper on the shelf."
Lafe uttered a surprised ejaculation.
"I couldn't let you do that, Peg," he said, shaking his head. "Them'sthe last left over from your mother's stuff. Everything else'sgone.... I couldn't let you, Peggy."
Mrs. Grandoken gave a shake of defiance.
"Whose curtains be they, Lafe?" she asked. "Be they mine or yourn?"
"Yourn, Peggy dear, and may God bless you!"
All through the night Jinnie had dreadful dreams. The thought ofeither not going to Mr. King's or that she might not have anything fitto wear filled the hours with nightmares and worryings. In themorning, after she crawled out of bed and was wearily dressing Bobbie,the little blind boy felt intuitively something was wrong with hisfriend.
"Is Jinnie sick?" he whispered, feeling her face. "My stars ain'tshinin' much."
The girl kissed him.
"No, honey," she said, "Jinnie's only sad, not sick."
Together they went into the shop, where Peggy stood with the mostgorgeous lacy stuff draped over her arms. Strewn here and there overthe yards and yards of it were bright yellow and red roses. Nothingcould have been more beautiful to the girl, as with widening eyes shegazed at it. Lafe's face was shining with happiness. Peggy didn't seemto notice the two as they entered, but she lifted the lace, displayingits length stolidly.
Jinnie bounded forward.
"What is it, Peg? What is it?"
Lafe beamed through his spectacles.
"A dress for you, girl dear. Peggy's givin' you the things she lovesbest. She's the only woman in the world, Jinnie."
Reverently Jinnie went to Mrs. Grandoken's side. She felt abjectlyhumble in the presence of this great sacrifice. She looked up into theglum face of the cobbler's wife and waited in breathless hesitation.Peg permitted her eyes to fall upon the girl.
"You needn't feel so glad nor look's if you was goin' to tumble over,"she said. "It ain't no credit to any one them curtains was on theshelf waitin' to be cut up in a dress for you to fiddle in. Go put themush on that there stove!"