"What does he call you?" Molly spoke amiably, as if discussing these unimportant little matters for mere politeness' sake.
"Mostly Jinnie," was the prompt reply. "I'm just Jinnie to every one who loves me."
She said this without thought of its import. Angrily Molly sent the motor spinning along at a higher rate. She was growing to hate the little person at her side.
"Where are your own people?" she demanded, when they were on the road leading to the country.
Jinnie glanced up. "Dead!" she answered.
"And the cobbler, Mr. Grandoken, is he your father's or mother's brother?"
Jinnie pondered a moment, undecided how to answer.
"Why, you see it's like this----"
Molly lessened the speed. Turning squarely around, she looked keenly at the scarlet, lovely face.
"Why are you blushing?" she queried.
Then like a flash she remembered. What a silly fool she had been! Jordan Morse would give his eyes almost to locate this girl.
"I remember now who you are," she said, taking a long breath. "You're Virginia Singleton."
Jinnie touched her arm appealingly.
"You won't tell anybody, will you, please? Please don't.... There's a reason why."
"Tell me the reason."
"I couldn't now, not now. But I have to live with Lafe Grandoken quite a long time yet."
"You ran away from your home?"
"Yes."
"Your father died the same night you came away."
"Yes, and--please, what happened after I left?"
"Oh, he was buried, and the house is empty."
Molly forebore to mention Jordan Morse, and Jinnie's tongue refused to utter the terrifying name.
Presently the girl, with tears in her eyes, said softly: "And Matty, old Matty?"
"Who's Matty?" interjected Molly.
"The black woman who took care of me. She lived with me for ever so long."
Molly didn't reply for some time. Then: "I think she died; at least I heard she did."
A cold shudder ran over Jinnie's body. Matty then had gone to join those who, when they were called, had no choice but to answer. She leaned against the soft cushions moodily. She was harking back to other days, and Molly permitted her to remain silent for some time.
"You must have people of your own you could live with," she resumed presently. "It's wrong for a girl with your money----"
Jinnie's lovely mouth set at the corners.
"I wouldn't leave Lafe and Peggy for anybody in the world, not if I had relations, but I haven't."
"I thought--I thought," began Molly, pretending to bring to mind something she'd forgotten. "You have an uncle," she burst forth.
Jinnie grew cold from head to foot. Her father's words, "He won't find in you much of an obstacle," came to her distinctly.