Red Roses and Yellow

Now when Jinnie first heard that he wished to see her, she thought her heart could beat no faster, but his words made that small organ tattoo against her sides like the flutter of a bird's wing in fright. She could do something for him! Oh, what joy! What unutterable joy!

"We're going to have some friends here Sunday evening----"

The sudden upfling of Jinnie's head cut off his words.

What difference would his having friends make to her? Oh, yes, they wanted more wood. How gladly she would get it for him; search all day for the driest pieces if he needed them!

"I was wondering," proceeded Mr. King, "if you would come here with your violin and play for--for--us?"

Jinnie's knees relaxed and she staggered back against the wall.

"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.

"I'd love to do it," she breathed.

"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."