Poor Golden Hairthe mine had been
named for her. Was this golden-haired
Millie's life to be as black a failure as
the mine had proven? Was that name
of hope and pride to be shunned now
as a word that hurt, that was a mock
ery?
He turned again drearily to the pa
per before himhis life insurance the
last plank between the beloved little
band and the hungry sea of absolute
poverty. Everything else, together
with the best jears of his life, the
mine had swallowed. If he lived, this
would probably have to go. If he died
just died, you know
Perhaps it was the tense stillness
that woke the sleeper perhaps it was
the flickering light. Perhaps it was
the mystic time for her to awake from
girlhood to womanhood. She had been
wandering in childish dreams. Sud
denly she was broad awake and her
soul had seized the look on her father's
face and she lay trembling with the
knowledge of a man's despair. She
had heard, with the light-hearted half
consciousness of youth, his few sad
words, as he had announced at home
coming that the mine had "played out."
She had known that mother "felt bad"
over it.
Now there was revelation in the face,
in the very figure of the man alone past
midnight, facing despair, with failure
back of him.
The girl watched him through the
meshes of her shining hair. What she
read she could not have voiced, but
the woman heart woke in her that
knows without knowledge. She could
see the top of the life insurance polici
es it turned backward she knew what
it was. She felt his thought.
