odore something with her own hands. Oh, what joy!

She smiled back at the speaker as he moved toward the door. Then he
left her, asking her politely to make herself at home until he
returned.

Jinnie waited and waited until she thought she couldn't possibly wait
any longer. Peg would be worried, terribly worried, and little Bobbie
wouldn't eat his supper without her. But because of Miss
Merriweather's kindness and her own great desire to see her
sweetheart, she must stay until the last moment. She grew tired, stiff
with sitting, and the little clock on the mantel told her she'd been
there over two hours. She got up and went to the window. The building
stood high on a large wooded bluff overlooking a deep gorge. The
landscape before her interested her exceedingly, and took her in fancy
to the wilderness of Mottville. The busy birds fluttered to and fro,
twittering sleepily to each other, and for a short time the watcher
forgot her anxiety in the majesty of the scene.

Miles of hills and miles and miles of water stretched northward as far
as her eyes could discern anything. The same water passed and repassed
the old farmhouse, and for some time Jinnie tried to locate some
familiar spot, off where the sky dipped to the lake. It wasn't until
she noticed the hands of the clock pointed to half past six that she
became terribly nervous.

She wanted to go to the hospital and get back to Peg. Mrs. Grandoken
couldn't leave the baby with Blind Bobbie, and there was supper to
buy. Once more she paced the rooms, then back to the window. She
shivered for some unknown reason, and a sharp consciousness of evil
suddenly grew out of the lengthening hours. With the gathering dusk
the hills and gorge had fallen into voiceless silence, and because her
nerves tingled with vague fear, Jinnie drew the curtains to shut out
the yawning dark, and lighted a lamp on the table.

The room was arranged simply with a small divan, at the head of which
was a pillow. Jinnie sat down and leaned back. Her face held a look of
serious attention. She wondered if anything had happened to Molly the
Merry. Then abruptly she decided to go downstairs. If they weren't
coming, she'd _have_ to go home. She went to the door and, turning the
knob, pulled hard. The door was locked, and the key was gone! Her
discovery seemed to unmake her life in a twinkling. She was like one
stricken with death--pale, cold and shivering. She did not know what
she was going to do, b