As she spoke, Joe Ratowsky came across the lawn. In the moonlight, he looked like a great tawny giant. He spoke in English: “Mr. Hobart, that beeznez is no good. He no stay to-morrow. To-day homes he goes quick.”
“Where is his home? Doesn’t he live here?”
“Dennis O’Day, b’gosh, niver. So many as one children he have. Milton, he live.”
“Why doesn’t he bring his family here? I didn’t know the man was married.”
“Umh—yes, b’gosh. His girl tall like your girl. He no bring her. He proud like the tivil. Never he tell his girl what he do here—no, b’gosh, he don’t.”
“Well, come in and I will talk the matter over. We can’t do much else than wait.” Then turning to his daughter, “Good-night, Elizabeth, I must talk to Joe now.”
Elizabeth ascended the stair. Joe’s visit had taken her mind from her going away. She wondered what the Pole could have in common with her father. Joe was not even a miner.