“I was so young when I married your uncle, I didn’t know anything. When I lost my baby, I knew no way to search for him.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Jinnie had forgotten that they were both standing. “Sit in that little rocker; it’s Bobbie’s,” she finished.
Molly looked at the little chair and turned away.
“Lafe bought it for him,” Jinnie explained eagerly. “He was too sick with his heart to get around much like other boys.”
Miss Merriweather wrung her hands.
“Don’t tell me any more,” she begged piteously. “He’s dead and nothing can help him now. I’ve—something else to say to you.” Jinnie wiped her eyes.
“Mr. King is quite well now, and––”
“Oh, I’m glad!” cried Jinnie. “Does he—he ever speak of me?”
Molly shook her head mutely.
“I don’t want him to see you!” she cried, her eyes growing hard and bright.