"Daddy, every night I go to bed, I am frightened that I shall wake up and find myself in Rosemary Lane."
Thereupon he read her and the Duchess a lecture on contentment and gratitude, not so much needed by Sally as by the Duchess.
"I know you're right," said Sally; "it will always be a pleasure to think of, but I shall be awful sorry too, that it didn't last for ever. It can't, Daddy, can it?"
"No, my dear, it can't."
"I wish I was rich," sighed Sally.
"Supposing you had lived a hundred years ago," suggested Seth, with grave humour; and paused.
"Well, Daddy. Supposing I did?"
"It would be all the same to you whether you had a hundred boxes full of gold or whether you had twopence-halfpenny."
Sally was shrewd enough to understand this without having to ask for an explanation.
"What do you say to it all?" asked Sally of the Duchess.