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 125 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.