She reached the bottom of the hill just as a car dashed around the lower corner, a woman at the wheel. One glance at the occupant, and Jinnie recognized Molly Merriweather. The woman smiled sweetly and drove to the edge of the pavement. "Good afternoon," she greeted Jinnie. "Won't you take a little ride with me? I'll drive you home afterwards." Jinnie's heart bounded. As yet Molly had not discovered her identity, and the girl, in spite of Lafe's caution, wanted to know all that had passed in Mottville after she left. She wanted to hear about her dead father, of Matty, and the old home. She gave ready assent to Molly's invitation by climbing into the door opened for her. "You don't have to go home right away, do you?" asked Miss Merriweather pleasantly. "No, I suppose not," acceded Jinnie shyly. She connected Molly the Merry with all that was good. She remembered the woman's kindly smiles so long ago in Mottville, and--that she was a friend of Theodore King. She was startled, however, after they had ridden in silence a while, when the woman pronounced his name. "Have you seen Mr. King lately?" Jinnie shook her head. "I guess it's three days," she answered, low-voiced. Three days! Molly racked her brain during the few seconds before she spoke again to bring to mind when Theodore had been absent from home out of business hours. "He's a very nice man," she remarked disinterestedly. Jinnie's gratitude burst forth in youthful impetuosity. "He's more'n nice,--he's the best man in the world." "Yes, he is," murmured Molly. "Theo--I mean Mr. King," stammered Jinnie. Molly turned so quickly to look at the girl's reddening face that the car almost described a circle. "You call him by his first name, then?" she asked, with a sharp backward turn of the wheel. "No," denied Jinnie, extremely confused. "Oh, no! Only--only----" "Only what?" "When I think of him, then I do. Theodore's such a pretty name, isn't it?" Molly bit her lip. Here was the niece of a cobbler who dared to think familiarly of a man in high social position. She had tried to make herself believe Theo was simply philanthropic, but now the more closely she examined the beautiful face of the girl, the more she argued with herself, the greater grew her fear. "What does he call you?" Molly spoke amiably, as if discussing these unimportant little matters for mere politeness' sake. "Mostly Jinnie," was the prompt reply. "I'm just Jinnie to every one who loves me." She said this without thought of its import. Angrily Molly sent the motor spinning along at a higher rate. She was growing to hate the little person at her side. "Where are your own people?" she demanded, when they were on the road leading to the country. Jinnie glanced up. "Dead!" she answered. "And the cobbler, Mr. Grandoken, is he your father's or mother's brother?" Jinnie pondered a moment, undecided how to answer. "Why, you see it's like this----"