“Raymond’s mightily in love with her, ain’t he?” and went on without waiting for a reply, “I can’t tell about her,––you never can tell nothin’ about girls, anyway, you know, and she’s just wrapped up in her piano music. She spends hours thumpin’ on what 183 she calls classical music, but I wouldn’t give it for one tune on the banjo. She’s been begging me to let her go to New York and study, but Lord, she knows as much now as any woman under the canopee’s got use for, I think, and I’ve told her she can’t do it. Raymond says, though, she ought to go, and that he’d like nothin’ better than to give her the chance. His folks have got money, I reckon, and he can do it all right. If anything’ll help to get her that will.”
Steve laughed in reply with as good grace as he could, and soon followed Mrs. Follet to bed as one of the “old folks” before the “children” returned.
It was evident enough that he did not count with anybody except the Greelys as a possible suitor for Nancy, and his sturdy heart chafed in almost bitter protest. Again sweet memories played truant in the small attic chamber. “And little Nancy has musical aspirations,” he thought. “With the life I have chosen I could never gratify her. It is absolutely hopeless for me,––I have nothing to offer her. I am old and staid, anyway,” he said finally to his rebellious heart. “I have known the responsibilities of life too long, and Nancy is made only for joy.”
The next morning, putting aside his depression sternly, Steve went on horseback alone, taking the same road he and Nancy had taken the morning 184 before. He lingered again in the Greely woods, this time on a prospecting tour testing here and testing there carefully.
When he at last rode up to the little one-roomed log cabin the old folks again made him welcome. After chatting a goodly length of time with them, and getting his voice well pitched for the old man’s hearing, Steve asked if Mr. Greely would not like to sell off some of his land.
The old man looked surprised at the question, for no coal fields had then been opened up in that part of Kentucky, so that he was not aware of the value of coal bearing land.
“Wal, course I would, but nobody would want ter buy hit. Thar’s only this patch the cabin and mill sets on what’s any a’count, an’ that I want ter keep long’s me an’ the ole woman lives.”
“I am sure you are mistaken about that, Mr. Greely. I think all that woodland ridge is good land, and I would like to own it. Will you and Mrs. Greely think it over, give me a price on it by to-morrow and let me have the first chance at it?”
Astonished beyond measure the old man looked helplessly at his wife.
“Why, Steve, give me what ye think hit is wuth, if you really want hit.”