Accordingly she drew out her stone, adjusted her glasses, and commenced by seeing him in a deep dark hole, with something hung up between himself and a pile of gold which he was trying to reach. She then kept on, and described a young girl, as she saw her, about twelve years of age, who was to be of future service to him or his work. “And you will not get through with the partner you have now, either!” she said, decidedly. “Well I was told that same thing about my last partner,” he muttered, half to himself and half aloud. “What was his name?” she asked. “What do you think?” he answered, Yankee fashion. “I see a large W.,” she said musingly. “Well that is right; his name was Wheeler,” he replied. “What do you think of him?” “I don’t know nothing about him,” said the old woman, cautiously; “but I see one very mean thing that he did.” “You mean to say he is a dishonest man, then?” Mr. Marble said, for the sake of getting along faster. “No I don’t,” she said fearfully; “he is not dishonest, but he took the advantage.” “Well, never mind that, tell me about my present partner; do you know _his_ name?” Marble said again, to turn the theme. “I see the same large W.,” she said, “but it looks finer and handsomer.” “Really, quite a compliment; anything more?” “Yes; I see a great deal of wood.” “Well, that it is the land that I work on,--is it not?” “No; it is something in connection with your partner. I see him now. He is young--light-complected for a black-eyed person. There is something strange about his eyes; they glare at me like coals of fire. He is not very handsome, but there is a taking way with him that makes the gentlefolks like him at first sight. Splendid young fellow, ah!” “Yes,” said Marble, “fine man; is he not?” An Indian-like grunt escaped her, and she said, “You have not told me what that wood means.” “Wood--why, it is his name--is it not?” “Yes,--I think so. It is gone now,” she said, and prepared to lay aside her stone. “You spoke about his being young; is he not old enough for that work?” Marble asked. “In years he is,” she answered, moodily. “Not old enough in business, then, you meant,” he continued. “In iniquity, did you say?” she asked. Mr. M. saw he could get nothing more from her that day, and soon took his leave.