In a hole under the floorboards, Silas keeps his gold. Every day he works hard at his weaving, and every night he takes the gold out and holds the bright coins lovingly, feeling them and counting them again and again. The villagers are afraid of him and he has no family, no friends. Only the gold is his delight, his friend, his reason for living. But what if a thief comes in at night and takes his gold away? What will Silas do then? What could possibly comfort him for the loss of his only friend?