The summer days swelled the sweet-corn kernels and brought the ears to their perfection. It was almost time to cut them and carry them away to the factory, when one day Nathan found Millia among the rows, and stopped to put both his big hands on both her shoulders with unusual gentleness. Looking up into his face, she thought how serenely happy it seemed.
"Milly," he said, laughing a little in quiet triumph, "they offered me eighty dollars an acre for this corn to-day."
"Why, Thanny!"
"Yes'm; and I took it." He walked away, down one row and up another. Then he faced her again. "Milly, we've struck pay dirt a'ready. We've found the gold," he said.
"Why, Thanny! Why, I thought—" And then Milly caught his sudden sweeping gesture, comprehending all the golden stalks of corn, row after row, and understood. "Why, yes!" she cried; "so it is, Thanny Thacher—it's our gold!"
"Yes," Thanny said, thoughtfully, as they walked home together, and there was quiet contentment in his voice. "Yes, I guess it's all right. The assayer said there wasn't enough gold in the rocks to make it worth while, but there's gold in the old sod, Milly. We've struck 'pay dirt.'"
A FAIR RETORT.
It is quite as hard as ever to get ahead of Pat. This was proved the other day during a trial in an English court-room, an Irish witness being examined as to his knowledge of a shooting affair.
"Did you see the shot fired?" the magistrate asked, when Pat had been sworn.