"Yes. Well, Dave he used to be sweet on Phrony, and he seems to be still sweet on her."
Mr. Keith nodded.
"Well, of course, Phrony she's lookin' higher than Dave--but you know how women air?"
"I don't know--I know they are strange creatures," said Keith, almost with a sigh, as his past with one woman came vividly before him.
"Well, they won't let a man go, noway, not entirely--unless he's in the way. So, though Phrony don't keer nothin' in the world about Dave, she sort o' kep' him on-an'-off-like till this here young Wickersham come down here. You know, I think she and him like each other? He's been to see her twicet and is always a--writin' to her?" His voice had an inquiry in it; but Keith took no notice of it, and the old man went on.
"Well, since then she's sort of cooled off to Dave--won't have him around--and Dave's got sort of sour. Well, he hates Wickersham, and he up and told her t'other night 't Wickersham was the biggest rascal in New York; that he had 'most broke his father and had put the stock of this here new mine on the market, an' that he didn't have coal enough in it to fill his hat; that he'd been down in it an' that the coal all come out of our mine."
Keith's eyes glistened.
"Exactly."
"Well, with that she got so mad with Dave, she wouldn't speak to him; and Dave left, swearin' he'd settle Wickersham and show him up, and he'll do it if he can."
"Where is he?" asked Keith, in some anxiety. "Tell him not to do anything till I see him."