CHAPTER IV
JINNIE TRAVELS
Virginia took the direction leading to the station. Many a time shehad watched the trains rush by on their way to New York, but never inthose multitudinous yesterdays had it entered her mind that some dayshe would go over that same way, to be gone possibly forever. The windwas blowing at such a terrific rate that Jinnie could scarcely walk.There was no fear in her heart, only deep solemnity and a sense of aweat the magnificence of a storm. She had left the farmhouse so suddenlythat the loneliness of parting had not then been forced upon her as itwas now; the realization was settling slowly upon the clouded youngmind.
She was a mere puppet in the hands of an inexorable fate, which hadshown her little mercy or benevolence.
Out of sight of the Merriweather homestead, she kept to the path alongthe highway, now and then shifting the pail from one hand to theother, and clasping the beloved fiddle to her breast. Once she lookeddown to find Milly Ann peeping above the rim of the pail. Jinnie couldsee the glint of her greenish eyes. She stopped and, with a tenderlyspoken admonition, covered her more closely with the roller towel.When the lighted station-house glimmered through the falling snow,Jinnie sighed with relief.
"I couldn't 've carried you and the fiddle much farther, Milly Ann,"she murmured.
At that moment a tall figure, herculean in size, loomed out of thenight and advanced hastily. The man's head was bent forward againstthe storm. Virginia caught a glimpse of his face as he passed in thestreak of light thrown out from the station.
He sprang to the platform and disappeared in the doorway. Jinnie sawhim plainly when she, too, entered, and her eyes followed him as hewent out.
She had never seen him before. Like the man in the Merriweatherkitchen, he bore the stamp of the city upon him.
Virginia bought her ticket as her father had directed, and while thepail was still on the floor, she bent to examine Milly Ann and thekittens. The latter were asleep, but the mother-cat lazily opened hereyes to greet, with a purr, the soft touch of Jinnie's fingers. Thegirl waited inside the room until the shriek of the engine's whistletold her of its approach; then, with the fiddle and the pail, shewalked to the platform.
The long, snakelike train was edging the hill, its headlight bearingdown the track in one straight, glittering line.
For the first time in her life, Jinnie felt really afraid. In otherdays, with beating heart, she had hugged close to the roadside as themonster slipped either into the station and stopped, or rushed aroundthe curve. Tonight she was going aboard, over into a strange landamong strange people.
She tilted the pail lovingly and hugged a little more tightly thefiddle in her arm. Whatever happened, she had Milly, her littlefamily, and the comforting music. Jinnie could never be quite alonewith these. As the train slowed up, the conductor jumped down.
It seemed to Virginia like a dream as she walked toward the steps atthe end of the car. As she was about to lift her foot to climb up, sheheard a voice say:
"Let me help you, child. Here, I'll take the pail."
Virginia looked upward into the face of a man,--the same face she hadseen in the station a few moments before,--and around the handsomemouth was a smile of reassuring kindliness.
She surrendered the pail with a burning blush, and felt, with astrange new thrill, a firm hand upon her arm. The next thing she knewshe was in a seat, with the pail on the floor and the fiddle lyingbeside her.
She gazed around wonderingly. There was no one in sight but the tallman who, across the aisle, was arranging his overcoat on the back ofthe seat. Jinnie looked at him with interest--he had been so kind toher--and noted his thick, blond hair, which had been cropped close toa massive head. She admired him, too. Suddenly he looked up, and thegirl felt a clutch at her heart. Just why that happened she could nottell. Again came the charming smile, the parted lips showing a set ofdazzling white teeth.
Jinnie smiled back, responsively. The man came over.
"May I sit beside you?" he asked.
Jinnie moved the fiddle invitingly and huddled herself into thecorner. When the man started to move the pail, Jinnie stayed him.
"Oh, don't, please," she protested. "It's only Milly and----"
"Milly and what?" quizzically came the question.
"Her kitties--see?"
She drew aside the towel and exposed the sleeping family.
A broad smile lit up the man's face.
"Oh, cats! I see! Where're you taking them?"
"To Bellaire."
"Ah, Bellaire; that's where I'm going. We'll have a nice ridetogether, almost two hours."
"I'm glad." Jinnie leaned back, sighing contentedly.
In those few minutes she had grown to have great faith in thisstranger, the third of the puzzling trio that had come into her lifethat night. First her father, then the man with Molly the Merry, andnow this brilliant new friend, who quite took away her breath as shepeeped up at him. His smile seemed to be ever ready. It warmed her andmade her glow with friendliness. She liked, too, the deep tones in hisvoice and the sight of his strong hands as they gestured during hisspeeches.
"Where are you going in Bellaire?" he questioned.
Virginia cogitated for a moment. She couldn't tell the story herfather had told her, yet she must answer his kindly question.
At length, "The cats and I are going to live with my uncle," saidshe.
"He lives in Bellaire?"
"Yes, but I've never seen him. I'll find him, though, when I getthere."
It didn't occur to the man to ask the name of her relatives, andJinnie was glad he did not.
"Perhaps I shall see you some time in the city," he responded to herstatement. Jinnie hoped so; oh, how she hoped she might see himagain!
"Mebbe," was all she said.
"You see I live there with my mother," continued the man. "Our home iscalled Kinglaire. My name is King."
Virginia lifted her head with a queer little start.
"I've read about your people," she said. "I've got a book in ourgarret that tells all about Kings."
"That's very nice," answered Mr. King. "I won't have to explainanything about us, then."
"No, I know," said Jinnie in satisfaction.
At least she thought she knew. Hadn't she read over and over, whenseated in the garret, the story of the old and new kings, how they saton their thrones, and ruled their people sometimes with a rod of iron?Jinnie brought to mind some of the vivid pictures, and shyly lifted apair of violet eyes to scan the face above her. Surely this King washandsomer than any in the book. She tried to imagine him on histhrone, and wondered if he were always smiling as now.
"You're quite different from your relations," she observed presently.
Theodore King laughed aloud. The sound startled the girl into astraighter posture. It rang out so merrily that she laughed too aftermaking up her mind that he was not ridiculing her.
"Really you are!" she exclaimed. "I mean it. You know the picture ofthe King with a red suit on,--he doesn't look like you. His nose wentsort of down over his mouth--I mean, well, yours don't."
She stumbled through the last few words, intuitively realizing thatshe had been too personal.
"You like to read, I gather," stated Mr. King.
"Yes, but I like to fiddle better," said Jinnie.
"Oh, you play, do you?"
Jinnie's eyes fell upon the instrument standing in the corner of theopposite seat, wrapped in an old jacket. She nodded.
"I play some. I love my fiddle almost as much as I do Milly Ann andher kitties."
"Won't you play for me?" asked Mr. King, gravely putting forth hishand.
Jinnie paused a moment. Then without further hesitancy she took up theviolin and unfastened it.
"I'll be glad to fiddle for a king," she said naively.
She did not speak as she turned and twisted the small white keys.
Outside the storm was still roaring over the hills, sweeping the lakeinto monstrous waves. The shriek of the wind
mingled with the snap ofthe taut strings under the agile fingers of the hill girl. Then Jinniebegan to play. Never in all his life had Theodore King seen a picturesuch as the girl before him made. The wondrous beauty of her, themarvelous fingers traveling over the strings, together with themoaning of the night wind, made an impression upon him he would neverforget. Sometimes as her fingers sped on, her eyes were penetrating;sometimes they darkened almost to melancholy. When the last wailingnote had finally died away, Jinnie dropped the instrument to herside.
"It's lonely on nights like this when the ghosts howl about," sheobserved. "They love the fiddle, ghosts do."
Theodore King came back to himself at the girl's words. He drew a longbreath.
"Child," he ejaculated, "whoever taught you to play like that?"
"Why, I taught myself," answered Jinnie.
"Please play again," entreated Mr. King, and once more he satenthralled with the wonder of the girl's melodies. The last fewsoulful notes Mr. King likened to a sudden prayer, sent out with asobbing breath.
"It's wonderful," he murmured slowly. "What is the piece you've justplayed?"
"It hasn't any name yet," replied the girl. "You see I only knowpieces that're in my head."
Then all the misery of the past few hours swept over her, and Jinniebegan to cry. A burden of doubt had clouded the usually clear youngmind. What if the man to whom she was going would not let her and thecats live with him? He might turn them away.
Mr. King spoke softly to her.
"Don't cry," said he. "You won't be lonely when you get to youruncle's."
But she met his smiling glance with a feeling of constraint. He didnot know the cause of her tears; she could not tell him. If she onlyknew,--if she only had one little inkling of the reception she wouldreceive at the painter's home. However, she did cheer up a little whenMr. King, in evident desire to be of some service, began to tell herof the city to which she was going.
In a short time he saw the dark head nodding, and he drew Jinnie downagainst his arm, whispering:
"Sleep a while, child; I'll wake you up at Bellaire."