"You musn't feel embarrassed about it," he hurried on. "I'd be very much indebted to you if you thought you could."
Tears were so perilously near Jinnie's lids that some of them rolled into her throat. To regain her self-possession enough to speak, she swallowed several times in rapid succession. Such a compliment she'd never been paid before. She brought her hands together appealingly, and Mr. King noticed that his request had heightened her color.
"Of course I'll pay you for it," he said, not able to think of anything else,
"I couldn't take any money for fiddling," replied Jinnie. "But I'll come. Lafe says money can't be made that way."
She turned to go, but Mr. King detained her.
"Wait a minute," he insisted. "I want to tell you something! You've a great gift--a wonderful genius--and out of such genius much money _is_ made.... I couldn't think of letting you come here unless you allowed me to remunerate you."
Jinnie listened attentively to all he said, but refusal was still in her steady gaze. Mr. King, seeing this, continued quickly:
"I want you very much, but on that one point I must have my way. I shall give you twenty-five dollars for playing three pieces."
Then Jinnie thought she was going to faint. Twenty-five dollars! It was a fortune--a huge fortune! But she couldn't take money for playing tunes that came from her heart--tunes that were a part of herself the same as her hands or feet. But before she could offer another argument, the man finished hurriedly:
"It's settled now. You're to come here Sunday night at eight. I'll send for you."
Lafe was sitting at the window as she ran through the shortcut along the tracks. Her curls were flying in the wind, her cheeks glowing with flaming color. Every day the cobbler loved her more, for in spite of the dark soil in which Jinnie thrived, she grew lovelier in spirit and face.
He waved his hand to her, and both of her arms answered his salute. When the door burst open, Lafe put down his hammer expectantly. Before he could speak, she was down upon her knees at his side, her curly head buried in his loving arms, and tears were raining down her face.
Lafe allowed her to cry a few moments. Then he said:
"Something's hurt my lassie's heart.... Somebody!... Was it Maudlin?"