“Then you feel sure of that, Chowne?” said my father, who seemed quite overcome.
“I am certain of it; but of course I can’t say what is the quantity.”
“Silver?”
“Probably. Lead, certain.”
“Then, Sep, my boy—” cried my father excitedly, catching me by the shoulder.
“Yes, father,” I said.
I believe now that my father was going to say something about my growing up to be a rich man; but he checked himself, and only said quietly:
“Come and sit down to tea.”