Keith was not long in doubt as to the connection between her presence and Wickersham's. Several times he had occasion to call at Mr. Turley's. On each occasion he found Wickersham there, and it was very apparent that he was not an unwelcome visitor. It was evident to Keith that Wickersham was trying to make an impression on the young girl. That evening so long ago when he had come on her and Wickersham in the old squire's orchard came back to him, and the stalwart old countryman, with his plain ways, his stout pride, his straight ideas, stood before him. He knew his pride in the girl; how close she was to his heart; and what a deadly blow it would be to him should anything befall her. He knew, moreover, how fiercely he would avenge any injury to her. He determined to give Wickersham a hint of the danger he was running, if, as he believed, he was simply amusing himself with the girl. He and Wickersham still kept up relations ostensibly friendly. Wickersham had told him he was going back to New York on a certain day; but three days later, as Keith was returning late from his mines, he came on Wickersham and Phrony in a byway outside of the town. His arm was about her. They were so closely engaged that they did not notice him until he was on them. Phrony appeared much excited. "Well, I will not go otherwise," Keith heard her say. She turned hastily away as Keith came up, and her face was scarlet with confusion, and even Wickersham looked disconcerted. That night Keith waited for Wickersham at the hotel till a late hour, and when at length Wickersham came in he met him. "I thought you were going back to New York?" he said. "I find it pleasanter here," said the young man, with a significant look at him. "You appear to find it pleasant." "I always make it pleasant for myself wherever I go, my boy. You are a Stoic; I prefer the Epicurean philosophy." "Yes? And how about others?" "Oh, I make it pleasant for them too. Didn't it look so to-day?" The glance he gave him authorized Keith to go on. "Did it ever occur to you that you might make it too pleasant for them--for a time?" "Ah! I have thought of that. But that's their lookout." "Wickersham," said Keith, calmly, "that's a very young girl and a very ignorant girl, and, so far as I know, a very innocent one." "Doubtless you know!" said, the other, insolently. "Yes, I believe she is. Moreover, she comes of very good and respectable people. Her grandfather--" "My dear boy, I don't care anything about the grandfather! It is only the granddaughter I am interesting myself in. She is the only pretty girl within a hundred miles of here, unless you except your old friend of the dance-hall, and I always interest myself in the prettiest woman about me." "Do you intend to marry her?" Wickersham laughed, heartily and spontaneously. "Oh, come now, Keith. Are you going to marry the dance-hall keeper, simply because she has white teeth?" Keith frowned a little.