“Genie, I’m sorry, but I’m glad, too. What I want most is to see you settled in a happy home, with a guardian, young friends about you—all you want.”
She appeared sober now, and Adam gathered that she had thought more seriously than he had given her credit for.
“Wanny, you’re good, and your goodness makes you see all that for me. But a guardian—a happy home—all I want!... I’ll be poor. I’ll have to work for a living. I won’t have you!”
Then suddenly she seemed about to weep. Her beautiful eyes dimmed. But Adam startled her out of her weakness.
“Poor! Well, Genie Linwood, you’ve got a surprise in store for you.”
Wherewith he led her to the door of the hut and, tearing up the old wagon boards that had served as a floor, he dug in the sand underneath and dragged forth bag after bag, which he dropped at her feet with sodden, heavy thumps.
“Gold, Genie! Gold! Yours!... You’ll be rich.... All this was dug by your father. I don’t know how much, but it’s a fortune.... Now what do you say?”
The rapture Adam had anticipated did not manifest itself. Genie seemed glad, certainly, but the significance of the gold did not really strike her.
“And you never told me!... Well, by the great horn spoon, I’m rich!... Wanny, will you be my guardian?”
“I will, till I can find you one,” he replied, stoutly.