Philip took from his pocket a map of the anthracite coal region, and pointed out the position of the Ilium mountain which he had begun to tunnel.

“Doesn’t it look like it?”

“It certainly does,” said the Squire, very much interested.  It is not unusual for a quiet country gentleman to be more taken with such a venture than a speculator who, has had more experience in its uncertainty.  It was astonishing how many New England clergymen, in the time of the petroleum excitement, took chances in oil.  The Wall street brokers are said to do a good deal of small business for country clergymen, who are moved no doubt with the laudable desire of purifying the New York stock board.

“I don’t see that there is much risk,” said the Squire, at length.  “The timber is worth more than the mortgage; and if that coal seam does run there, it’s a magnificent fortune.  Would you like to try it again in the spring, Phil?”

Like to try it!  If he could have a little help, he would work himself, with pick and barrow, and live on a crust.  Only give him one more chance.

And this is how it came about that the cautious old Squire Montague was drawn into this young fellow’s speculation, and began to have his serene old age disturbed by anxieties and by the hope of a great stroke of luck.

“To be sure, I only care about it for the boy,” he said.  The Squire was like everybody else; sooner or later he must “take a chance.”

It is probably on account of the lack of enterprise in women that they are not so fond of stock speculations and mine ventures as men.  It is only when woman becomes demoralized that she takes to any sort of gambling.  Neither Alice nor Ruth were much elated with the prospect of Philip’s renewal of his mining enterprise.

But Philip was exultant.  He wrote to Ruth as if his fortune were already made, and as if the clouds that lowered over the house of Bolton were already in the deep bosom of a coal mine buried.  Towards spring he went to Philadelphia with his plans all matured for a new campaign.  His enthusiasm was irresistible.

“Philip has come, Philip has come,” cried the children, as if some great good had again come into the household; and the refrain even sang itself over in Ruth’s heart as she went the weary hospital rounds.  Mr. Bolton felt more courage than he had had in months, at the sight of his manly face and the sound of his cheery voice.

Ruth’s course was vindicated now, and it certainly did not become Philip, who had nothing to offer but a future chance against the visible result of her determination and industry, to open an argument with her.  Ruth was never more certain that she was right and that she was sufficient unto herself.  She, may be, did not much heed the still small voice that sang in her maiden heart as she went about her work, and which lightened it and made it easy, “Philip has come.”

“I am glad for father’s sake,” she said to Philip, that thee has come.  “I can see that he depends greatly upon what thee can do.  He thinks women won’t hold out long,” added Ruth with the smile that Philip never exactly understood.