money to keep as money, but I do care so much for what it will buy!”
“Really I think most of us do,” returned R. W.
“But not to the dreadful extent that I do, Pa. O-o!” cried Bella, screwing the exclamation out of herself with a twist of her dimpled chin. “I am so mercenary!”
With a wistful glance R. W. said, in default of having anything better to say: “About when did you begin to feel it coming on, my dear?”
“That’s it, Pa. That’s the terrible part of it. When I was at home, and only knew what it was to be poor, I grumbled but didn’t so much mind. When I was at home expecting to be rich, I thought vaguely of all the great things I would do. But when I had been disappointed of my splendid fortune, and came to see it from day to day in other hands, and to have before my eyes what it could really do, then I became the mercenary little wretch I am.”