"We're going to be happy for one whole beautiful day, Jinnie," said he hoa.r.s.ely.

He helped her out, and neither one spoke again. The motor started away, and the girl rushed into the shop.

Lafe had just said to Peggy, "There they be! He's been after 'er!"

"Lafe, Lafe dear," Jinnie gurgled. "I'm going with 'im to-morrow. All day with the birds and flowers! Oh, Peggy dear, I'm so happy!"

Mrs. Grandoken glared at her.

"Ugh! 'S if it matters to me whether you're happy or not!"

Jinnie stooped and smothered Bobbie with caresses. With his arms tightly about her neck, he purred contentedly,

"My stars're all shinin' bright, Jinnie."

"Kiss me, both of you kids!" was all Lafe said.

CHAPTER x.x.x

WHAT THE FIDDLE TOLD THEODORE

Jinnie looked very sweet when she bade farewell to Peg and Lafe the next morning. Mr. King's car was at the door, and the cobbler watched him as he stepped from it with a monosyllabic greeting to the girl and helped her to the seat next to his. Peggy, too, was craning her neck for a better view.

"They're thick as thieves," she said, with a dubious shake of her head.

"I guess he likes 'er," chuckled Lafe. "To make a long story short, wife, a sight like that does my eyes good!"

Mrs. Grandoken shrugged her shoulders, growled deep in her throat, and opined they were all fools.

"An' quit doin' yourself proud, Lafe!" she grumbled. "You're grinnin'

like a Cheshire cat. 'Tain't nothin' to your credit she's goin' to have the time of her life."

"No, 'tain't to my credit, Peggy," retorted the cobbler, "but 'tis to yours, wife."

By the time Lafe finished this statement, Mr. King and Jinnie Grandoken were bowling along a white road toward a hill bounding the west side of the lake.

"See that basket down here?" said the man after a long silence.

"Yes."

"That's our picnic dinner! I brought everything I thought a little girl with a sweet tooth might like."

Jinnie had forgotten about food. Her mind had dwelt only upon the fact she was going to be with him all day, one of those long, beautiful days taken from Heaven's cycle for dear friends. The country, too, stretched in majestic splendor miles ahead of them, trees r.i.m.m.i.n.g the road on each side and making a thick woodland as far as one could see.

"I'm glad I brought my fiddle," Jinnie remarked presently.

"I am, too," said Theodore.

The place he chose for their outing was far back from the highway, and leaving the car at one side of the road, they threaded their way together to it. The sky above was very blue, the lake quietly reflecting its sapphire shades. Off in the distance the high hills gazed down upon the smaller ones, guarding them in quietude.

Theodore spread one of the auto robes on the ground, and shyly Jinnie accepted his invitation to be seated.

"Oh, it's lovely," she said in soft monotone, glancing at the lake.

"Yes," replied Theodore dreamily.

His eyes were upon the placid water, his thoughts upon the girl at his side. Jinnie was thinking of him, too, and there they both sat, with pa.s.sionate longing in their young hearts, watching nature's great life go silently by.

"Play for me," Theodore said at length, without taking his eyes from the water. "Stand by that big tree so I can look at you."

Flushed, palpitating, and beautiful, Jinnie took the position he directed. She had come to play for him, to mimic the natural world for his pleasure.

"Shall I play about the fairies?" she asked bashfully.

"Yes," a.s.sented King.

As on that night in his home when first she came into his life in full sway, the man now imagined he saw creeping from under the flower petals and from behind the tall trees, the tiny inhabitants of Jinnie's fairyland. Then he turned his eyes toward her, and as he watched the lithe young figure, the pensive face lost and rapt in the lullaby, Theodore came to the greatest decision of his life. He couldn't live without Jinnie Grandoken! No matter if she was the niece of a cobbler, no matter who her antecedents were--she was born into the world for him, and all that was delicate and womanly in her called out to the manhood in him; and all that was strong, masterful, and aggressive in him clamored to protect and shield her, and in that fleeting moment the brilliant young bachelor suddenly lost his hold on bachelordom, as a boy loses his hold on a kite. There are times in every human life when such a decision as Theodore then made seemed the beginning of everything. It was as if the past had wrapped him around like the grey sh.e.l.l of a coc.o.o.n.

A loose lock of hair fell coquettishly from the girl's dark head low upon the fiddle, and Theodore loved and wanted to kiss it, and when the instrument dropped from under the dimpled chin, he held out his hand.

"Come here, Jinnie," he said softly. "Come sit beside me."

She came directly, as she always did when he asked anything of her. He drew her down close to his side, and for a long time they remained quiet. Jinnie was facing the acme of joy. The day had only begun, and she was with the object of her dreams. Just as when she had lived in the hills the fiddle had held the center of her soul, so now Theodore King occupied that sacred place. The morning light rose in her eyes, the blue fire transforming her face.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "PLAY FOR ME," THEODORE SAID. "STAND BY THAT BIG TREE SO I CAN LOOK AT YOU."]

Theodore turned, saw, and realized at that moment. He discovered in her what he had long desired. She loved him! All the old longing, all the strength and pa.s.sion within him broke loose at the nearness of her. Suddenly he stretched out his arms and drew her still nearer.

Jinnie felt every muscle of his strongly fibered body grow tense at her touch. She tried to draw away from his encircling arms, but the rise and fall of her bosom, girlishly curved--the small-girl shyness that caused her to endeavor to unloose his strong hands, only goaded him to press her closer.

"Don't leave me, my dearest, my sweet," he breathed, kissing her lids and hair. "I love you! I love you!"

She gasped once, twice, and her head fell upon his breast, and for a moment she lay wrapped in her youthful modesty as in a mantle.

"Kiss me, Jinnie," Theodore murmured entreatingly.

She buried her head closer against him.

"Kiss me," he insisted, drawing her face upward. His lips fell upon hers, and Jinnie's eyes closed under the magic of her first kiss.

The master-pa.s.sion of the man brought to sudden life corresponding emotions in the girl--emotions that hurt and frightened her. She put her hand to his face, and touched it. He drew back, looking into her eyes.

"Don't," she breathed. "Don't kiss me any more like--like that."

"But you love me, my girlie, sweet?" he murmured, his lips roving over her face in dear freedom. "You do!... You do!"