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, lass," 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 God be praised!" he ejaculated. "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, lass, 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, lass, 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.