“It ain’t any new plan; I’ve been turning it over ever since the last steamer, and I only waited to see if the luck would hold out. Now the news is come, and I’m goin’. That’s just all there is about it. I don’t see why I should stay here and be a poor man to the end of time, when other folks has only got to turn round and make a fortune. Why there was one man took five ounces of gold out of one hole, in among the rocks! The paper says so, and gold’s nineteen dollars an ounce. Five times nineteen is——”
“Ninety-five,” responded Abby, quickly. She had been a diligent student of Smith’s Arithmetic, at the district school all winter, and when her father was speaking considered she had a perfect right to join in the conversation.
“Yes—ninety-five dollars in ten minutes, just as fast as he could scoop it out, and I might work six months for it here on this plaguy farm. Why, it tells about lumps of real solid gold, as big as my fist! and one man’s just as good as another there. None of your Deacons and Squires, settin’ themselves up above other folks.”
Poor Mr. Gilman, like many other persons whose own faults have degraded them, had a bitter envy towards those who continued to do well. It must certainly be on the principle that “misery loves company;” there is no better way to account for this selfish desire to see others in trouble, when we are suffering from our own rashness or folly, “selfish,” to say the least.
“Is any body going from the Corner?” Mrs. Gilman had laid down her knife and fork, and pushed back her plate. She felt a sick, choking sensation, that would not let her eat. She saw her husband was in his sober senses, and more determined than he had been on any subject for a long time.
“Yes,” he answered doggedly, as if he did not wish to be questioned further.
“Who?” persisted his wife, with an anxious foreboding of the name she would hear.
“Well, if you must know, it’s Bill Colcord, and we’ve agreed to go into partnership. I know you don’t like him, but it’s just like one of your woman’s notions. Bill’s a first-rate fellow, and gives as long as he’s got a cent.”
Mrs. Gilman did not remonstrate. She knew it was of no use. The time had been when her husband would scarcely have spoken to this man, who had always been idle and dissolute. How he lived no one exactly knew. He was very clever at making a bargain, was always betting, and, it was said, could overreach any body he dealt with. It was only of late years that he had become Mr. Gilman’s companion. His wife had warned and entreated him in vain. Mr. Gilman would sometimes promise to give him up, but the man always had a hold on him, treating at Mooney’s, or lending him small sums of money.
In spite of herself, Mrs. Gilman drew a heavy sigh when she heard him mentioned; but she saw Hannah looking up earnestly, and Abby listening, and remembering every word.