"Yes, she will. Tell her Miss Merriweather wants her to arrange a surprise for Theodore King. Tell 'er Miss Merriweather wants her to play." Bates laughed evilly. "That'll fix the huzzy. Anything about that damn fiddle'll fetch 'er every time! When I get 'er I'll bust it up for kindlin' wood." "Then it's settled," said Morse, rising. "You go this afternoon at three o'clock to Grandoken's, tell Jinnie what I told you to, get the cobbler into an argument, and I'll do the rest." "You'll be sure to be there?" "Of course! What'd you think I am? Keep your mouth shut! Be sure of that." "Three o'clock, then," said Maudlin, getting up. "So long!" and lifting his wood, he went on his way rejoicing. CHAPTER XXXIII THE MURDER At half past one that afternoon a messenger appeared at Grandoken's with a letter for Jinnie. Peggy called the girl to the shop. "Boy's got something for you," she declared. "It's a letter, I guess." Jinnie held out her hand with thumping pulses, took the extended pencil, and signed her name to a blank page. Then the boy held out the missive. Of course it was from Theodore, thought Jinnie. She had scarcely slept the night before, fitfully dreaming of him. Throwing a shy smile at Peg, she went into her bedroom and shut the door. With a long, ecstatic breath, she set herself to the delightful task of slowly perusing the beloved epistle. "My darling," Jinnie read, and she kissed those two words, each one separately. Then she whispered them again, "My darling," and read on: "I'm coming this afternoon at three to see your uncle, and I thought you might like me to talk with him alone. It will be a simple matter for you to take the little blind boy and go away for an hour or so, but be sure and return at four. By that time I'll have our arrangements all made, but I won't go until I see you. "I send all my love to you, my sweetheart. "Your own, "THEODORE." Jinnie kissed the words "my sweetheart" too, and then joyfully slipped the letter inside her dress. She daren't speak of his coming, for how could she conceal her happiness from Lafe? At two o'clock, she said to Peggy: "May I take Bobbie for a little walk, dear?" The blind child heard the request and scrambled up. "Can I go, Peggy?" he pleaded. Peg glared at the girl. "I thought you always fiddled in the afternoon," she queried. "I do generally," acquiesced Jinnie, "but--to-day----" "Well, go 'long," said Peg, not very graciously. "I'm goin' over to Miss Bates' a while. Maudlin come by just now, an' said would I come over.... Get back early!" Jinnie dressed Bobbie with trembling fingers. The boy noticed she could scarcely button his jacket. "What's the matter, Jinnie dear?" he whispered. Jinnie was just slipping on his cap as he spoke. She bent and kissed him passionately. "Nothing, honey, only Jinnie's happy, very happy." "I'm so glad," sighed Bobbie, with a smiling wag. "I'm happy too. Let's go on the hill, and take Petey."