The mother of my little boy and I sit until late at night talking about money, which seems to us the most difficult matter of all.
For our little boy must learn to know the power of money and the glamour of money and the joy of money. He must earn much money and spend much money. . . .
Yet there were two people, yesterday, who killed a man to rob him of four dollars and thirty-seven cents. . . .
VIII
It has been decreed in the privy council that my little boy shall have a weekly income of one cent. Every Sunday morning, that sum shall be paid to him, free of income-tax, out of the treasury and he has leave to dispose of it entirely at his own pleasure.
He receives this announcement with composure and sits apart for a while and ponders on it.
"Every Sunday?" he asks.
"Every Sunday."
"All the time till the summer holidays?"
"All the time till the summer holidays."