second. "According to all accounts, it's highly promising."
"They've certainly got highly-flattering reports from the mining experts," remarked the first man. "All this"—indicating the advertisement—"is, of course, what they term rose-coloured. But I've heard, privately, that it's no more highly-coloured than it deserves—they say it's likely to turn out one of the richest beds of coal in these parts."
"Piece of rare luck for young Mortover, anyhow!" said the second man, with a somewhat cynical laugh. "Talk about a sudden change of fortune—there's an instance for you, if you like. I used to think that Mortover property about as dismal a bit of country as you could set eyes on—worth nothing!"
"Why, and it wasn't worth anything!" agreed the other. "I question if any Mortover ever raised a blade of corn from it—and they say there's been Mortovers there since Henry the Eighth, or maybe Seventh's time. And what grass there was on it wouldn't feed a sheep—poor, starved land always!"
"Aye, well, it had the right stuff underneath it all the time!" remarked the second man. "Only wanted an expert's sharp nose to smell it out!"
"Who did get the first notion?" asked the
