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Updated: June 4, 2025
"I never heard it till till just now," she defended, rather shaken by his tone and air of candor. "When? "Oh very recently." "Won't you tell me who told you?" "No o. Go on." "Well, that woman that poor girl her name was her name is Phrony Tripper or Trimmer. I think that was her name she called herself Euphronia Tripper." He was trying with puckered brow to recall exactly.
As he looked at the squire, he knew how dangerous it would be. His face was settled into a grimness which showed how perilous it would be for the man who had deceived Phrony, if, as Keith feared, his apprehensions were well founded. But at that moment both Phrony and Wickersham were far beyond Squire Rawson's reach.
He had bought the land for mountain pasture, and he didn't know about these railroads and mines and such like. Phrony would have it after his death, and she could do what she wished with it after he was dead and gone. "He is a fool!" thought Wickersham, and set Phrony to work on him; but the old fellow was obdurate.
This last day he hardly expected to have half a dozen pupils. To his surprise, the school-house was filled. Even Jake Dennison, who had been off in the mountains for some little time getting out timber, was on hand, large and good-humored, sitting beside Phrony Tripper in her pink ribbons, and fanning her hard enough to keep a mine fresh.
He kissed Phrony for her wheedling, but told her that women-folks didn't understand about business. So Wickersham had to leave without getting the lands. The influx of strangers was so great now at Gumbolt that there was a stream of vehicles running between a point some miles beyond Eden, which the railroad had reached, and Gumbolt.
He even had the satisfaction of seeing Phrony treat coldly and send away one or two country bumpkins who rode up in all the bravery of long broad-cloth coats and kid gloves. But if at the end of this time the young man could congratulate himself on success in one quarter, he knew that he was balked in the other.
One word caught Keith, and his interest awoke. "What wife?" he asked as indifferently as he could. "His wife, his lawful wife, Squire Rawson's granddaughter, Phrony Tripper. I was at the weddin' I was a witness. He thought he could get out of it, and he was half drunk; but he married her." "Where? When? You were present?" "Yes.
He still thought it was she who sat beside him, and he called her by name, "Phrony." The girl, a poor, painted, bedizened creature, was quick enough to answer to the name. "I am Phrony; go to sleep again." The joy of getting back his lost one aroused the old man, and he sat up with an exclamation of delight. The next second, at sight of the strange, painted face, he recoiled. "You Phrony?" "Yes.
"She is not strong on arithmetic," said Keith to himself. "She is like Phrony in that." She began to feel about her skirt, and her face changed. "Oh, I haven't a cent. I have left my purse at the hotel." This was to Keith. "Let me give it to her." And he also began to feel in his pocket, but as he did so his countenance fell. He, too, had not a cent. "I have left my purse at home, too," he said.
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