"It hasn't any name yet," replied the girl. "You see I only know pieces that're in my head." Then all the misery of the past few hours swept over her, and Jinnie began to cry. A burden of doubt had clouded the usually clear young mind. What if the man to whom she was going would not let her and the cats live with him? He might turn them away. Mr. King spoke softly to her. "Don't cry," said he. "You won't be lonely when you get to your uncle's." But she met his smiling glance with a feeling of constraint. He did not know the cause of her tears; she could not tell him. If she only knew,--if she only had one little inkling of the reception she would receive at the painter's home. However, she did cheer up a little when Mr. King, in evident desire to be of some service, began to tell her of the city to which she was going. In a short time he saw the dark head nodding, and he drew Jinnie down against his arm, whispering: "Sleep a while, child; I'll wake you up at Bellaire." CHAPTER V LIKE UNTO LIKE ATTRACTED Jinnie Singleton watched Theodore King leave the train at the little private station situated on his own estate. As she drew nearer the city depot, her heart beat with uncertainty, for that day would decide her fate, her future; she would know by night whether or not she possessed a friend in the world. For some hours she sat in the station on one of the hard benches, waiting for daylight, at which time she and Milly Ann would steal forth into the city to find Lafe Grandoken, her mother's friend. A reluctant, stormy dawn was pushing its way from the horizon as she picked up the pail and fiddle and stepped out into the falling snow. Stopping a moment, she asked the station master about the Grandokens, but as he had only that week arrived in Bellaire, he politely, with admiration in his eyes, told her he could not give her any information. But on the railroad tracks Virginia saw a man standing with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. "What'd you want of Lafe Grandoken?" asked the fellow in reply to her question. "I've come to see him," answered Jinnie evasively. "He's a cobbler and lives down with the shortwood gatherers there on Paradise Road. Littlest shack of the bunch! He ain't far from my folks. My name's Maudlin Bates." He went very near her. "Now I've told you, you c'n gimme a kiss," said he. "I'll give you a bat," flung back Jinnie, walking away. Some distance off she stood looking down the tracks, her blue eyes noting the row of huts strung along the road and extending toward the hills. At the back of them was a marshland, dense with trees and underbrush. "My father told me Mr. Grandoken was a painter of houses!" Jinnie ruminated: "But that damn duffer back there says he's changed his work to cobbling. I'll go and see! I hope it won't be long before I'm as warm as can be. Wonder if he'll be glad to see me!"