Jabez slowly drew his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow in a dazed way.
“Why don’t you speak to him?” cried the girl to Tommy. “But you don’t know all about him that I do. Come here with me this instant”; and she threw herself on her knees before the older man.
But he caught her and held her up.
“Don’t,” he protested brokenly. “I can’t stand it. Only make him listen. I’ve got a right t’ tell him what t’ do. If he only knowed how empty my heart is!”
There was something in the tone that brought the quick tears to the boy’s eyes. His boyish obstinacy and pride melted away as he gazed into the other’s tender face. He was drawn out of his chair by some power greater than himself, and in an instant was in the other’s arms, sobbing upon his breast. He knew that the problem had been solved.
“He’s pure gold,” said Jabez Smith, with his hand on Tommy’s shoulder; “he’s just pure gold. I knowed it when I seen him goin’ up t’ th’ mine with these here clothes on. An’ he sha’n’t stay in th’ rough. We’ll make him int’ the finest piece of work th’ colleges of this country kin turn out.”
But the girl, looking fondly at them, knew that they were both pure gold, and that the old, rough, world-worn nugget was more beautiful than the hand of man could make it.