f
course you wouldn't insult your family and your friends by marrying
her. Then what conclusion do you want them to draw?"

Theodore looked at her as if she'd suddenly lost her senses. She had
cast an aspersion upon the best little soul in God's created world.

"Well, of all the villainous insinuations I ever heard!" he thundered
harshly. "My God, woman! Haven't you any soul ... any decency about
you?"

The question leaped out of a throat tense with uncontrollable rage. It
was couched in language never used to her before, and caused the woman
to stagger back. She was about to demand an apology, when Theodore
flung out of the room and banged the door behind him.

Molly sat down quickly. Humiliating, angry tears flowed down her
cheeks and she made no effort to restrain them. What cared she that
Theodore had repudiated her accusation? She felt she had discovered
the truth, and nothing more need be said about it.

After growing a little calmer, she saw that she'd made another mistake
by enraging Theodore. He had not taken her insults against the girl as
she had expected.

Half an hour later she called his office and was informed he was out.

Theodore left Molly more angry than he'd ever been in his life.
Instead of making him think less of Jinnie, Molly's aspersions drew
him more tenderly toward the girl. As he strode through the road under
the trees, his heart burned to see her. He looked at his watch--it was
four o'clock. Jinnie had had her lesson in the morning, so he could
not call for her at the master's. Just then he saw her walking quickly
along the street, and she lifted shy, glad eyes as he spoke her name.
By this time his temper had cooled, yet there lingered in his heart
the stabbing hurt brought there by Molly's slurs. He felt as if in
some way he owed an apology to Jinnie; as if he must make up for harm
done her by a vile, gossiping tongue.

He fell into step beside her and gently took the violin box from her
hand.

"And how is my little friend to-day?" he asked.

His voice, unusually musical, made Jinnie spontaneously draw a little
nearer him.

"I'm very well," she returned, demurely, "and I've learned some very
lovely things. I went up twice to-day--sometimes the master makes me
come back in the afternoon."

It eased his offended dignity to see her so happy, so vividly lovely.
He had gone to Molly with the intention of asking her to go with him
some day soon to Mottville. He thought of this no