“I knew it,” she cried. “I’ve known it for months–and I wish you the best of good luck.”
“Oh, you do, eh?” grunted Wiley, and stood undecided as Mrs. Huff continued her assurances. He had come there to see Virginia, but business was business and the Widow seemed almost reasonable. “Huh, that’s funny,” he said at last. “I thought you had it in for me. What’s the chance for getting a quit-claim?”
“A quit-claim!” echoed the Widow, suddenly pricking up her ears. “Why, what do you want that for, now?”
“Well, you’re going away,” explained Wiley quietly, “and it might come in handy, later, if I should want to take over the mine. Of course you’ve got no title–and no stock, for that matter–but I’ll give you a hundred dollars, all the same.”
“I’ll take it!” snapped the Widow and Wiley broke out laughing as he reached for his fountain pen.
122“Zingo!” he grinned and then he bit his lip, for the Widow was quick to take offence. “Of course,” he went on, “this doesn’t affect your stock if you should ever get it back from Blount. That is still your property, according to law, and this quit-claim just guarantees me free entry and possession. We’ll get Virginia to witness the agreement.”
“All right,” bridled the Widow and watched him cynically as he wrote out the quit-claim and check. “Oh! Actually!” she mocked as he put the check in her hands. “I just wanted to see if you were bluffing.”
“Well, you know now,” he answered and sat in stony silence until she departed with a triumphant smirk. Then he glanced at Virginia and motioned towards the street, but she sighed and shook her head.
“No,” she said, “I can’t leave the house–mother is likely to start any time, now.”
“I suppose you’ll be glad to go,” he suggested at last as she sat down and gathered up the kittens. “The old town is sure awful dead.”