When she spoke again, it was in very sober accents.
"We have had a death in our family to-day."
Rufus looked startled.
"Not any near relation, I hope?"
"He was a very dear friend—Peter—my canary. He was ill yesterday, but I thought he was sulky. He wouldn't eat his food, and this morning I found him quite dead at the bottom of his cage. I cried dreadfully, for I loved him next best to our cat 'Toodles.' Peter was so good; he would always sing to me when I chirped to him, even if it wasn't a sunny day, and it must be difficult to sing when one is dull, and it is raining and people are very grave round one. I'm sure Peter was a bird who tried to live for others, and please them and cheer them up. Mother often used to say, 'I wonder what makes him so happy?' Becca says you can often sing yourself into a good humor, if you try, but I've never heard her sing."
"I should not think she carries her precepts into practice," said Rufus, with a grim smile. "You wouldn't call her a person whose aim in life was to please other people and cheer them up!"
"Well," said Greta, gravely; "she told me once you mustn't go by outside looks. Some people are born into the world with grave faces, and some with sunny ones, and you can't alter your looks. It is the heart, she says, and your motives and pinnacles that are the important thing!"
"Motives and principles," murmured Rufus, smiling.
Greta did not notice his correction, and went on: "I suppose there are hardly any people who only live to please themselves, are there, Mr. Tracy?"
"A good many, I think. And after all, why should we not? If we are single men and women with no family ties, who is there to think of except ourselves?"