'Where does the gold come from?' asked Herring, eagerly, so eagerly that Joyce turned sharply round and looked him hard in the face.
'Don't'y know neither?'
'Indeed I do not.'
'Vaither said as you didn't and nobody didn't. And larned and skolards as the volk be, vaither be too much for mun.'
'Joyce, if you can tell me where the gold comes from I shall indeed be thankful.'
'Do you wish very much to know?'
Joyce was silent. She looked straight before her. Something was working in her mind.
'Well, Joyce?' asked Herring; he laid his hand on hers. 'If you will tell me this, you will repay me for all the little trouble I took to make your poor hands sound and strong again.
'Then I'll tell you, come what may. It is just this that made me doubt to say. Vaither 'd kill me sure as vuzz blooms all the year, if he knowed as I had told you. Look here,' said Joyce; 'do'y see thicky ant there. Well, he took up a great moorstone, and sez he, "You, Joyce, be that ant, and I'll treat you the same," and down with the stone.'
'Yes,' said Herring, his blood curdling, 'I understand you.'