The man's offer sifted through Jinnie's tired brain and stimulated her to quicker action. She turned again, shifting the weight more squarely on her shoulders, her feet keeping perfect time with the shrill, whistling tune.
"Faster! Faster!" taunted Maudlin. "Earn your meat, girl! Don't be a piker!"
Faster and faster whirled Jinnie, the heft of the shortwood carrying her about in great circles. Her cap had fallen from her head, loosing the glorious curls, and her breath whistled past the stem of Lafe's white flower like night wind past a taut wire.
Jinnie forgot everything but the delight of earning something for her loved ones--something that would bring a caress from Lafe. She was sure of Lafe, very sure!
As voices called "Faster!" and still "Faster!" Jinnie let go the shortwood strap to fling aside her curls. Just at that moment she whirled nearer Maudlin Bates, who thrust forth his great foot and tripped her. As she staggered, not one of those watching had sense enough to catch her as she fell. At that moment the door swung open and Peg Grandoken's face appeared. She looked questioningly at the market man.
"I thought I saw Jinnie come in," she hesitated---Then realizing something was wrong, her eyes fell upon the stricken girl.
"She was just earnin' a little sausage by dancin'," the butcher excused.
Peggy stared and stared, stunned for the moment. The hangdog expression on Maudlin's face expressed his crime better than words would have done. Jinnie's little form was huddled against the counter, the shortwood scattered around her, and from her forehead blood was oozing. On the slender arm was the ring of sausage and between her set teeth was Lafe's pale rose. With her outraged soul shining in her eyes, Peggy gathered the unconscious girl in her two strong arms.
"I bet you done it, you damn Maudlin!" she gritted, and without another word, left the market.
Within a few minutes she had laid Jinnie on her bed, and was telling Lafe the pathetic story.