"Much obliged, Peggy darling.... Oh, I'm so happy!" She stood directly in front of Mrs. Grandoken. "Aren't you, dear?" she besought.

"We're all glad, la.s.s," put in the cobbler.

Jinnie's blue, blue eyes were seeking approbation from the gaunt, frowning woman.

"None of you've got the sense of my bedpost," snapped Peg, sniffing the air. "Get along. They're waitin' for you."

Jinnie arrived in great excitement at Theodore King's door. She stumbled up the stone steps of the mansion with the fiddle carefully wrapped under her arm.

"Is Mr. King here?" she asked of the maid, hesitatingly.

She stood very still, scarcely breathing, until they called the master of the house, and as Theodore's eyes fell upon the lace dress, with its red and yellow roses and green vines running the length of the slim young figure, he smoothed away a smile that forced itself to his lips.

Out of grat.i.tude to Peggy, Jinnie felt she ought to speak of the frock, so with an admiring glance downward, she confided:

"Peggy made my dress out of her dead mother's curtains, and gave me this piece for my fiddle.... Wasn't it lovely of her?"

The pleading, soulful, violet eyes stirred Theodore King with a new sensation. He had pa.s.sed unscathed through the fires of imploring, inviting glances and sweet, tempting lips, nor yet realized that some day this black-haired girl would call him to a reckoning.

"It's very pretty, very pretty," he affirmed hurriedly. "I'm glad you're here.... Just wait for a moment. I'll come back for you."

There was a fixed line between his handsome eyes as he faced his guests. Theodore couldn't a.n.a.lyze his feelings toward Jinnie, but he was determined none should make sport of her.

"I've prepared a great treat for you," he stated, smiling, "but I want to ask you to overlook anything that may seem incongruous, for the musician is very sensitive."

Then he went back for Jinnie, and she followed him into the large room. The gorgeous red and yellow roses in the limply hanging blouse lent a color to her sunburned skin.

"You may play anything you like," Theodore whispered.

"All right," nodded Jinnie.

She unwrapped the fiddle and tuned it with nimble fingers. Not until she placed the instrument under her chin did she raise her head. Her eyes went searchingly from face to face of the attentive a.s.sembly. It so happened that they fell upon a crown of golden hair above a pair of dark eyes she vividly remembered. The glance took her back to that night more than two years before--to the night when her father died.

Molly Merriweather was seated in queenly fashion in one of the large chairs, a questioning look stealing over her countenance. Jinnie smiled at her and began to play. It might have been the beautiful woman opposite that brought forth the wild hill story, told in marvelous harmonies. The rapt young face gave no sign of embarra.s.sment, for Jinnie was completely lost in her melodious task.

Above the dimpled chin that hugged the brown fiddle, Theodore King could see the brooding genius of the girl, and longed to bring a pa.s.sionate lovelight for himself into the glorious eyes. The intensity of the music established in him an unconquerable hope--a hope that could not die as long as life was in him, as long as life was in the little fiddler.

As Jinnie finished with dramatic brilliancy, great applause and showers of congratulations fell upon her ears. Theodore went to her quickly.

"Wonderful! Splendid, child!" he declared joyously. "You're a genius!"

His words increased her joy--his compelling dark eyes added to her desire to do her best.

She meditated one moment. Then thoroughly unconscious of herself, turned and spoke to the audience.

"I'll play about fairies ... the ones who live in the woods and hide away in the flowers and under the leaves."

Once more she began to play. She believed in fairies with all her heart and had no doubt but that every one else did. Under the spell of her music and her loveliness, imaginary elves stole from the solitude of the summer night, to join their tiny hands and dance to the rhythm of her song.

As she lowered her violin and looked around, she saw astonishment on the faces of the strangers about her. A deathlike hush prevailed and Jinnie could hear the feverish blood as it struck at her temples.

Into her eyes came an unfathomable expression, and Theodore King, attracted by their latent pa.s.sion, went rapidly to her.

"It's exquisite!" he said vehemently. "Can't you see how much every one likes it?"

"Do you?" queried Jinnie, looking up at him.

"I love it, child; I love it.... Will you play again, please?"

A flame of joy suffused her as again she turned to the open-eyed crowd.

"Once," she informed them, "a big lion was hurt in the forest by lightning.... This--is--how he died."

She slowly raised the instrument, and sounded a vibrant, resonant, minor tone, measured, full and magnificent. Each listener sank back with a sigh.

Jinnie knew the mysteries of the forest as well as a singer knows his song, and she had not presented ten notes to the imagination of Theodore's friends before they were carried away from the dainty room in which they sat--away into a dense woodland where, for a few minutes, she demonstrated the witching wonders of it. Then she slipped the bow between her teeth and struck the violin strings with the backs of her fingers. The vibrations of impetuous harmony swept softly through the lighted room. Louder and louder was heard the awful fury of approaching thunder, while twinkling string-touches flashed forth the lightning between the sonorous peals.

Jinnie never knew how the fiddle was capable of expressing the cautious tread of the terrified king of beasts in his isolated kingdom, but her listeners beheld him steal cautiously from the underbrush. They saw him crouch in abject terror at the foot of a wide-spreading, gigantic tree, lashing his tail in elemental rage.

Then another scintillating flash of lightning, and the beast caught it full in the face. The slender hand of the little player was poised above the strings for a single vibrating moment, during which she stood in a listening att.i.tude. Then, with the sweep of three slender fingers, the lion's scream cut the air like a two-edged sword.

Death came on rapidly in deep, resounding roars, and the misery of the cringing, suffering brute was unfolded--told in heart-rending intonations, until at last he gave up his breath in one terror-stricken cry.

Jinnie dropped her hands suddenly. "He's dead," she said tremulously.

"Poor, poor lion!"

She turned tear-wet eyes to Theodore King.

"Shall I play any more?" she asked, shyly.

The man shook his head, not permitting himself to speak.

"Miss Grandoken has given us a wonderful entertainment," said he to his friends; then turning to her, he held out his hand, "I want to thank you, Miss Grandoken."

Many people crowded around her, asking where and how she had learned such music.

Molly the Merry, the mystified expression still on her face, drew near.

Again Jinnie smiled at her, hoping the lovely lips would acknowledge their former acquaintanceship. But as another person, a man, stepped between her and the woman, Jinnie glanced up at him. He was very handsome, but involuntarily the girl shuddered. There was something in the curling of his lips that was cruel, and the whiteness of his teeth accentuated the impression. His eyes filled her with dread.

"Where did you learn that wonderful music?" he smiled.... "I mean the music itself."

"Out of my heart," she said simply. "I couldn't get it anywhere else."

"She's very delightful!" said the stranger, turning to Theodore. "I've forgotten her name?"

He was so near her that Jinnie shrank back, and the master of the house noted her embarra.s.sment.

"Her name is Grandoken, Miss Grandoken.... Come," he said, holding out his hand to Jinnie, and as she placed her fingers in his, he led her away.

A large car was waiting at the front door, and he held her hand in his for a few seconds. The touch of her fingers thrilled him through and through. He noticed her head just reached his shoulder and a conscious desire to draw her to him for one blessed moment surged insistent within him. He dropped her hand suddenly.