“Wait––” said Mr. King. “It’s this way! If you brought it up here in one of my cars, it would save a lot of your time, and you wouldn’t have to come every day.”
“I could fiddle more,” Jinnie blurted radiantly. She remembered how sympathetically he had listened to her 128 through the blizzard. He liked the fiddle! She went a little nearer him. “I’m trying to make a tune different from any I’ve ever done, and I can’t always play well after lugging shortwood all day.... I’d love to deliver it the way you said.”
King stood gazing at her. How strangely beautiful she was! Something in the wind-browned face stirred his heart to its depths.
“Then that’s settled,” he said kindly. “You tell me where to have my man and what time, and to-morrow he’ll meet you.”
Jinnie thought a moment.
“I wonder if he knows where Paradise Road ends near the edge of the marsh.”
“He could find it, of course.”
“There’s a path going into the marsh right at the end of the road. I’ll meet him there to-morrow at twelve o’clock, and—and I’m so much obliged to you.”
When Jinnie told Lafe of the new arrangement, she gurgled with joy.
“Lafe, now I’ll make that tune.”