“Of a sudden there comes the clatter of hoofs and a fat youth, dressed to kill, all leggings, silver spurs, you know, comes dashing along on a blooded horse. He bumps into the woman, knocks the children off the horse, bumps into the Italian and sends him sprawling.
“‘Damn poor white trash!’ the fat youth swears, as he leaps from his saddle. ‘Damn Dago!’” Miss LeMar waved her hands.
“The mountain girl’s dog,” Lorena LeMar’s voice went on, “a long-eared sort of hound, comes out barking. The fat youth gives the poor hound a kick that sends him away with a wild howl.
“Then he puts on a grand air, and favors the beautiful Zola with a flattering smile while he asks the way to Pounding Mill Creek.
“Zola tells him the way. But you can see she’d much rather shoot him.
“‘Damn poor white trash!’ the Italian repeats, picking himself up from the dust after the fat youth has ridden on. ‘Damn Dago!’ Everybody like us, eh? Ha! Getta ’long fine. I gotta ten dolla’, gotta one donkey. What say we start a coal mine?’
“Zola laughs at the joke.
“But the Italian is serious. He makes good his word and starts a mine. Zola’s father owns some rough land full of coal. He and this Italian, Tony Riccordio, join as partners.
“And that,” Miss LeMar yawned, “is what you might call the first act.”
“It’s a fine beginning,” Florence enthused. “And I suppose the mine prospers. Zola marries the dark-eyed Italian, and they live happily ever after.”