CHAPTER XXII
MOLLY'S DISCOVERY
Peggy had given Jinnie a violin box, and as the girlwalked rapidlyhomeward, she gazed at it with pride, and began to plan how thewoman's burdens could be lightened a little--how she could bring asmile now and then to the sullen face. This had been discussed betweenLafe and herself many times, and they had rejoiced that in a fewmonths, when Jinnie was eighteen, Mrs. Grandoken's worries would belessened.
She reached the bottom of the hill just as a car dashed around thelower corner, a woman at the wheel. One glance at the occupant, andJinnie recognized Molly Merriweather. The woman smiled sweetly anddrove to the edge of the pavement.
"Good afternoon," she greeted Jinnie. "Won't you take a little ridewith me? I'll drive you home afterwards."
Jinnie's heart bounded. As yet Molly had not discovered her identity,and the girl, in spite of Lafe's caution, wanted to know all that hadpassed in Mottville after she left. She wanted to hear about her deadfather, of Matty, and the old home. She gave ready assent to Molly'sinvitation by climbing into the door opened for her.
"You don't have to go home right away, do you?" asked MissMerriweather pleasantly.
"No, I suppose not," acceded Jinnie shyly.
She connected Molly the Merry with all that was good. She rememberedthe woman's kindly smiles so long ago in Mottville, and--that she wasa friend of Theodore King. She was startled, however, after they hadridden in silence a while, when the woman pronounced his name.
"Have you seen Mr. King lately?"
Jinnie shook her head.
"I guess it's three days," she answered, low-voiced.
Three days! Molly racked her brain during the few seconds before shespoke again to bring to mind when Theodore had been absent from homeout of business hours.
"He's a very nice man," she remarked disinterestedly.
Jinnie's gratitude burst forth in youthful impetuosity.
"He's more'n nice,--he's the best man in the world."
"Yes, he is," murmured Molly.
"Theo--I mean Mr. King," stammered Jinnie.
Molly turned so quickly to look at the girl's reddening face that thecar almost described a circle.
"You call him by his first name, then?" she asked, with a sharpbackward turn of the wheel.
"No," denied Jinnie, extremely confused. "Oh, no! Only--only----"
"Only what?"
"When I think of him, then I do. Theodore's such a pretty name, isn'tit?"
Molly bit her lip. Here was the niece of a cobbler who dared to thinkfamiliarly of a man in high social position. She had tried to makeherself believe Theo was simply philanthropic, but now the moreclosely she examined the beautiful face of the girl, the more sheargued with herself, the greater grew her fear.
"What does he call you?" Molly spoke amiably, as if discussing theseunimportant little matters for mere politeness' sake.
"Mostly Jinnie," was the prompt reply. "I'm just Jinnie to every onewho loves me."
She said this without thought of its import. Angrily Molly sent themotor spinning along at a higher rate. She was growing to hate thelittle person at her side.
"Where are your own people?" she demanded, when they were on the roadleading to the country.
Jinnie glanced up. "Dead!" she answered.
"And the cobbler, Mr. Grandoken, is he your father's or mother'sbrother?"
Jinnie pondered a moment, undecided how to answer.
"Why, you see it's like this----"
Molly lessened the speed. Turning squarely around, she looked keenlyat the scarlet, lovely face.
"Why are you blushing?" she queried.
Then like a flash she remembered. What a silly fool she had been!Jordan Morse would give his eyes almost to locate this girl.
"I remember now who you are," she said, taking a long breath. "You'reVirginia Singleton."
Jinnie touched her arm appealingly.
"You won't tell anybody, will you, please? Please don't.... There's areason why."
"Tell me the reason."
"I couldn't now, not now. But I have to live with Lafe Grandoken quitea long time yet."
"You ran away from your home?"
"Yes."
"Your father died the same night you came away."
"Yes, and--please, what happened after I left?"
"Oh, he was buried, and the house is empty."
Molly forebore to mention Jordan Morse, and Jinnie's tongue refused toutter the terrifying name.
Presently the girl, with tears in her eyes, said softly:
"And Matty, old Matty?"
"Who's Matty?" interjected Molly.
"The black woman who took care of me. She lived with me for ever solong."
Molly didn't reply for some time. Then:
"I think she died; at least I heard she did."
A cold shudder ran over Jinnie's body. Matty then had gone to jointhose who, when they were called, had no choice but to answer. Sheleaned against the soft cushions moodily. She was harking back toother days, and Molly permitted her to remain silent for some time.
"You must have people of your own you could live with," she resumedpresently. "It's wrong for a girl with your money----"
Jinnie's lovely mouth set at the corners.
"I wouldn't leave Lafe and Peggy for anybody in the world, not if Ihad relations, but I haven't."
"I thought--I thought," began Molly, pretending to bring to mindsomething she'd forgotten. "You have an uncle," she burst forth.
Jinnie grew cold from head to foot. Her father's words, "He won't findin you much of an obstacle," came to her distinctly.
"Does your uncle know where you are?"
This question brought the girl to the present.
"No. I don't want him to know, either. Not till--not till I'meighteen."
"Why?"
Molly's tone was so cold and unsympathetic Jinnie regretted she hadaccepted her invitation to ride. But she need not be afraid; Lafewould keep her safe from all harm. Had she not tried out his faith andthe angels' care with Maudlin Bates? However, she felt she owed someexplanation to the woman at her side.
"My uncle doesn't like me," she stammered, calming her fear. "And Lafeloves me, Lafe does."
"How do you know your uncle doesn't love you?"
Thinking of Lafe's often repeated caution not to divulge her father'sdisclosure of Morse's perfidy, Jinnie remained quiet.
The birds above their heads kept up a shrill chatter. On ordinaryoccasions Jinnie would have listened to mark down in her memory a fewnotes to draw from her fiddle, but at this moment she was too busylooking for a proper explanation. Glancing sidelong at the woman'sface and noting the expression upon it, she grew cold and drew intothe corner. She would not dare----
"I almost think it's my duty to write your uncle," said Mollydeliberately.
Jinnie gasped. She straightened and put forth an impetuous hand.
"Please don't! I beg you not to. Some day, mebbe, some day----"
"In the meantime you're living with people who can't take care ofyou."
"Oh, but they do, and Mr. King's helping me," faltered Jinnie. "Why,he'd do anything for me he could. He loves my fiddle----"
"Does he love you?" asked Molly, her heart beating swiftly.
"I don't know, but he's very good to me."
Molly with one hand carefully brushed a dead leaf from her skirt.
"Do you love him?" she asked, forcing casuality into her tone.
Did she love Theodore King? The question was flung at Jinnie sosuddenly that the truth burst from her lips.
"Oh, yes, I love him very, very much----"
The machine started forward with a tremendous jerk. Jinnie gave afrightened little cry, but the woman did not heed her. The motor spedalong at a terrific rate, and there just ahead Jinnie spied a leanbarn-cat, crossing the road. She screamed again in terror. Still Mollysped on, driving the car straight over the thin, gaunt animal.Jinnie's heart leapt into her mouth. All her great lov
e for livingthings rose in stout appeal against this ruthless deed. She lifted herslight body and sprang up and out, striking the hard ground with asickening thud. She sat up, shaking from head to foot. A shortdistance ahead Molly Merriweather was turning her machine. Jinniecrawled to the middle of the road, still dizzy from her fall. There,struggling before her, was the object for which she had jumped. Thecat was writhing in distracted misery, and Jinnie picked him up in herarms. She was sitting on the ground when Molly, very pale, rolledback.
"You little fool! You silly little fool!" she exclaimed, leaping out."You might have been killed doing such a thing."
"You ran over the kitty," wept Jinnie, bowing her head.
"And what if I did? It's only a cat. Throw it down and come with meimmediately."
Jinnie wasn't used to such sentiments. She got to her feet, a queer,rebellious feeling buzzing through her brain.
"I'm going to walk home," she said brokenly, "and take the kitty withme."
Saying this, she took off her jacket and wrapped it about the cat.Molly glared at her furiously.
"You're the strangest little dunce I ever saw," she cried. "If you'redetermined to take the little beast, get in."
Molly was sorry afterward she had not let Jinnie have her way, forthey had driven homeward but a little distance when she sawTheodore's car coming toward them. He himself was at the wheel, andwaved good-naturedly. Molly reluctantly stopped her machine. The manlooked in astonishment from the girl to the woman. He noticed Jinnie'swhite face and the long blue mark running from her forehead to herchin. Molly, too, wore an expression which changed her materially. Hestepped to the ground and leaned over the edge of their car.
"Something happened?" he questioned, eyeing first one, then theother.
Molly looked down upon the girl, who was staring at Mr. King.
"I--I----" began Jinnie.
Molly made a short explanation.
"She jumped out of the car," she said. "I was just telling her shemight have been killed."
"Jumped out of the car?" repeated Theodore, aghast.
"And we were going at a terrible rate," Molly went on.
Her voice was toned with accusation, and Jinnie saw a reprimandingexpression spread over the man's face. She didn't want him to thinkill of her, yet she was not sorry she had jumped. He was kind andgood; he would pity the hurt thing throbbing against her breast.
"We--we--ran over a cat----" she said wretchedly.
"A barn-cat," cut in Molly.
"And he was awfully hurt," interpolated Jinnie. "I couldn't leave himin the road. I had to get him, didn't I?"
Theodore King made a movement of surprise.
"Did you notice it in the road?" he asked Miss Merriweather.
The woman was thoroughly angry, so angry she could not guard hertongue.
"Of course I saw him," she replied haughtily, "but I wouldn't stop foran old cat; I can tell you that much."
"Miss Grandoken looks ill," Theodore answered slowly, "and as I amgoing her way, I think she'd better come with me."
Molly was about to protest when two strong arms were thrust forth, andJinnie with the cat was lifted out. Before the girl fully realizedwhat had happened, she was sitting beside her friend, drivinghomeward. She could hear through her aching brain the chug-chug ofMolly's motor following. It was not until they turned into ParadiseRoad that Mr. King spoke to her. Then he said gently:
"It was a dreadful risk you took, child."
"I didn't think about that," murmured Jinnie, closing her eyes.
"No, I suppose not. Your heart's too tender to let anything beabused.... Is the cat dead?"
Jinnie pulled aside her jacket.
"No, but he's breathing awful hard. It hurts him to try to live. Iwant to get home quick so Peggy can do something for him."
"I'll hurry, then," replied Mr. King, and when he saw Lafe's face inthe window, he again addressed her:
"You'd better try to smile a little, Miss Jinnie, or your uncle'll befrightened."
Jinnie roused herself, but she was so weak when she tried to walk thatTheodore picked her up in his arms and carried her into the shop.
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