Her first glance at him brought the flushing consciousness that she was but a shortwood gatherer; the strap and its burden placed a great barrier between them. But his question about the fiddle, her fiddle, placed her again on equal footing with him. She permitted herself to smile.
"I play every day. My uncle loves it, but my aunt doesn't," she answered naïvely.
"And you're selling wood?"
"Yes, I must help a little."
She made the assertion 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 gratitude 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?"