Later by five minutes, Virginia left the dark farmhouse, carrying her fiddle and the pail of cats, and the blizzard swallowed her up.
CHAPTER III
JINNIE’S FAREWELL TO MOLLY THE MERRY
Virginia turned into the Merriweather gate, went up the small path to the kitchen, and rapped on the door. There was no response, so she turned the handle and stepped into the room. It was warm and comfortable. A teakettle, singing on the back of the stove, threw out little jets of steam. Jinnie placed the pail on the floor and seated herself in a low chair with her fiddle on her lap. Molly would be back in a minute, she was sure. Just as she was wondering where the woman could be, she heard the sound of voices from the inner room. A swift sensation of coming evil swept over her, and without taking thought of consequences, she slipped under the kitchen table, drawing the pail after her. The long fringe from the red cloth hung down about her in small, even tassels. The dining room door opened and she tried to stifle her swiftly coming breaths. Virginia could see a pair of legs, man’s legs, and they weren’t country legs either. Following them were the light frillings of a woman’s skirts.
“It’s warmer here,” said Miss Merriweather’s voice.
Molly and the man took chairs. From her position Virginia could not see his face.
“Your father’s ill,” he said in a voice rich and deep.
“Yes,” replied Molly. “He’s been near death for a long time. We’ve had to give him the greatest care. That’s why I haven’t told him anything.” 36