"Look at that, Milly—gold!"
"My goodness me, Thanny!"
"Gold, I tell you—g-o-l-d! Milly Thacher, there's gold on this farm—do you hear? It's under your face and eyes, in that rock. It's in all the rocks."
He laughed shrilly, executing shuffling dance steps around her chair.
"Thanny Thacher, you ain't in your right mind! You scare me."
"Milly Thacher, it's the live truth! Dan Merriweather thought so as long ago as he worked for father, but father didn't believe it, nor I either. I didn't think there could be any such good luck. But there is—there is!" The boy's face was radiant. "Dan's an old Forty-niner, and he ought to know. I didn't believe him, though—not till this afternoon, when I found that rock. Seeing's believing, and can't you see? Can't you see all those little gold grains, Milly Thacher, if you've got half an eye? They're there. All we've got to do is to get 'em out. I guess I know gold when I see it!"
Millia held the little rock in limp, unbelieving fingers. She saw the tiny sparkles in it; but—gold! Visions of wealth and luxury and rest hurried through her brain, of Thanny looking happy and satisfied again, and of herself—plain, tired little Milly—wearing becoming clothes, and letting her roughened fingers grow smooth and white. Perhaps she would wear soft kid gloves; people did who had gold. Perhaps Thanny would too; Thanny's hands were slender and shapely. Luxuries read of and dreamed of appealed suddenly to her dazzled vision as possible, probable realities; people with gold on their farms had such things, of course.
Nathan broke in upon her dreaming:
"They found gold on a farm over in Bentley. Over Easton way, too. I guess it's all over these parts. Anyhow, it's on the Thacher farm!" He laughed jubilantly. Then he pocketed the little sparkling pebble, and said, briskly: "Don't you wait supper for me, Milly. I'm going down to the Forks to see Amasa Flagg. He can advise me some about working the vein. Amasa knows everything."
Working the vein! How mysteriously important it sounded to Millia as she sat there, confused and awed! Could that be Thanny—Thanny!—swinging along with great springy strides, his shoulders unstooped, and importance and energy trailing in a little wake behind him?