when no one was looking. 93 “I don’t know what to dance,” she said presently, studying the rose in her confusion. “Oh, just anything,” encouraged the man on the stool. “I’ll whistle a tune.” “Hand her the sausage, butcher;” sniggered Maudlin, “then she’ll be sure of it. The feel of it’ll make her dance better.” The speaker grinned as the butcher took the string from the hook. Jinnie slipped the stem of the cobbler’s rose between her white teeth, grasped the sausage in one hand and gripped the shortwood strap with the other. Then the man started a rollicking whistle, and Jinnie took a step or two. Every one in the place drew nearer. Here was a sight they never had seen—a lovely, shy-eyed, rosy, embarrassed girl, with a load of kindling wood on the strong young shoulders, turning and turning in the center of the market. In one hand she held a ring of sausage, and between her lips a white rose. “If you’ll give us a grand fine dance, lass,” encouraged the butcher, “you c’n have the chopped meat, too.” The man’s offer sifted through Jinnie’s tired brain and stimulated her to quicker action. She turned again, shifting the weight more squarely on her shoulders, her feet keeping perfect time with the shrill, whistling tune. “Faster! Faster!” taunted Maudlin. “Earn your meat, girl! Don’t be a piker!” 94 94 Faster and faster whirled Jinnie, the heft of the shortwood carrying her about in great circles. Her cap had fallen from her head, loosing the glorious curls, and her breath whistled past the stem of Lafe’s white flower like night wind past a taut wire. Jinnie forgot everything but the delight of earning something for her loved ones—something that would bring a caress from Lafe. She was sure of Lafe, very sure! As voices called “Faster!” and still “Faster!” Jinnie let go the shortwood strap to fling aside her curls. Just at that moment she whirled nearer Maudlin Bates, who thrust forth his great foot and tripped her. As she staggered, not one of those watching had sense enough to catch her as she
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