Agatha was silent for some moments because she was surprised and moved. George had a keener imagination and saw farther than she thought. It looked as if he had known her mother best. "You loved her well and so you understood," she said. "But the troubles she bore are done with, and now I stand alone. I have no responsibilities; my life is mine!" George's face got red. "Well, perhaps I don't count for much, but we didn't cut loose when I married. I have a sister as well as a wife." "I'm sorry, George," said Agatha, putting her hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to hurt." "Very well! I'm not a sentimental fellow; let's be practical. You can't locate the ore, because it isn't there; but you may spoil your health and get soured by disappointment. Then, if you stop long, you'll lose your post and ruin your career. The blamed silver may become a fixed illusion. That's what I'm really afraid of most. In some ways, you're very like father." "You're persuaded the silver was an illusion?" "I am persuaded," George declared. "Men who live in the frozen woods get credulous and believe extraordinary things, and tales of wonderful lodes are common in the mining belts. Father heard something of the kind and brooded over it until he came to believe he had located the ore. He had too much imagination and wasn't practical." "But he gave me some specimens he found and they carry rich metal." "I allow he thought he found them; but that's a different thing." Agatha smiled. "Perhaps your theory's plausible, but it has some weak points." "Anyhow, if father couldn't locate the vein he claimed to have struck, I reckon there's not much chance of your doing so." "I mean to try," said Agatha, with ominous quietness. George saw that she was resolute, and although he was obstinate knew he was beaten. Agatha could not be moved when she looked like that. "I can't allow that you know best, but guess I may as well quit arguing," he remarked with a resigned shrug. "You'll come along and stop with Florence before you go back to Toronto?" "I will come for a week," Agatha agreed, and George went away to look for Farnam. CHAPTER VIII THE BURGLAR George went away next morning and a few days afterwards Farnam walked home with his wife and Agatha from a visit to a neighbor's homestead. When they reached the edge of Farnam's orchard they stopped and looked about. An extensive clearing had been cut out of the forest, the evening was clear and cold, and the pines threw long blue shadows on the snow. The young fruit trees ran back in orderly rows, and a frozen creek that crossed the orchard was picked out in delicate shades of gray. Farnam told Agatha that he found the creek useful for irrigation, because he had known the apples to shrivel on the trees in a dry summer.