"Yes, I must help a little."

She made the a.s.sertion proudly, offering no excuse for her chosen trade.

"And this is all for sale?" indicating the wood.

"Yes," said Jinnie, looking down upon it.

"I'll take it all," Theodore offered, putting his hand into his pocket. "How much do you want for it?"

The girl gave him a puzzled glance. "I don't just know, but I wish----I wish I could give it to you without any pay."

She moved a little closer and questioned eagerly:

"Won't you please take it?"

An amused expression crossed the man's handsome face.

"Of course not, my child," he exclaimed. "That wouldn't be business. I want to buy it.... How about a dollar?"

Jinnie gasped. A dollar, a whole dollar! She made but little more during an entire week; she had made less. A dollar would buy----Then a thought flashed across her mind.

"I couldn't take a dollar," she refused, "it's too much. It's only worth about twenty cents."

"But if I choose to give you a dollar?" pursued the man.

Again the purple black curls shook decidedly.

"I couldn't take more'n it's worth. My uncle wouldn't like me to. He says all we can expect in this world's our own and no more. Twenty cents is all."

Mr. King studied her face, thoughtfully.

"I've an idea, a good one. Now what do you say to furnishing me wood every morning, say at fifty cents a day. We use such a lot! You could bring a little more if you like or--or come twice."

Jinnie could scarcely believe she'd heard aright. Unshed tears dimmed her eyes.

"I wouldn't have to peddle to any one else, then, would I?" she stammered.

"No! That's just what I meant."

Then the tears welled over the drooping lids and a feeling of grat.i.tude surged through the girl's whole being. Fifty cents a day! It was such a lot of money--as much as Lafe made five days out of six.

Jinnie sent the man a fleeting glance, meeting his smiling eyes with pulsing blood.

"I'd love to do it," she whispered gratefully. "Then I'd have a lot of time to--to--fiddle."

Mr. King's hand slipped into his pocket.

"I'll pay you fifty cents for to-day's wood," he decided, "and fifty for what you're going to bring to-morrow. Is that satisfactory?"

As if in a dream, Jinnie tumbled out the contents of the shortwood strap. As she took the money from Mr. King's hand, his fingers touched hers; she thrilled to the tips of her curls. Then she ran hastily down the long road, only turning to glance back when she reached the gate.

Mr. King stood just where she had left him, and was looking after her.

He raised his cap, and Jinnie, with burning face, fled on again.

She wondered what Lafe would say about her unexpected good fortune.

She would tell _him_ first, before she saw Peggy. She imagined how the sweet smile would cross his lips, and how he would put his arm gently around her.

Lafe heard her open the side door and called,

"Come in, honey!... Come on in."

She entered after one hasty glance proved the cobbler was alone.

"You sold quick to-day, la.s.s," said he, holding out his hand.

Jinnie had planned on the way home to make great rehearsing of Theodore King's kindness, but in another instant she broke forth:

"Lafe, Lafe! I've got something to tell you! Oh, a lovely something! I sold all the wood to one man, and I'm going to take him a load every day, and get fifty cents for it. Regular customer, Lafe!... Here's a dollar for Peg."

Lafe did just what Jinnie expected he would, slipped an arm about her waist.

"The good G.o.d be praised!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Stand here an' tell me all about it."

"It was Mr. King----"

"Theodore King?" asked Lafe. "Why, he's the richest man in town. He owns the iron works."

Jinnie nodded. "Yes! He's the one I played for in the train when I first came here. You remember my telling you, Lafe? And he wants wood every day from me. Isn't it fine?"

"'Tis so!" affirmed Lafe. "Jinnie, la.s.s, them angels come in shapes of human bein's--mostly so. Now go tell Peggy. It'll take a load off'n her heart."

As Jinnie told her story to Mrs. Grandoken and handed her the money, the woman's lips twitched at the corners, but she only said, warningly:

"Don't get a swelled head over your doin's, la.s.s, for a brat ain't responsible for her own smartness."

One morning, about a week afterward, Jinnie rapped at the back door of the King mansion.

"Is Mr. King in?" she asked timidly of the servant.

The girl stared hard at the flushed, pretty face.

"He's in, but you can leave the wood if you want to."

"No," refused Jinnie. "I want to see him."

The maid turned away, grumbling, and Jinnie backed from the door with bated breath.

Mr. King appeared immediately, seemingly embarra.s.sed. He took both her hands.