"I suppose you think your father knows everything," the former said, a trifle irascibly, "but I daresay other people are just as clever as he is. It must be very, very nice to have money," she proceeded, "but mother says there are greater blessings than riches, and if we haven't money to give away we can give what we have—our time, or kind words, or sympathy, that all counts with God. It's easy to give money if you've got it. I daresay Uncle John gives away a good bit, doesn't he?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," Edgar answered. "I never heard him say. I daresay he does, for he has plenty of money, you know."
"Yes, I know," returned Polly, nodding her head sagely, "and so've you, haven't you? You get a lot of pocket-money, don't you?"
"A shilling a week from father, besides what mother gives me off and on."
"So much as that? Do you spend it all on yourself? Oh!" she cried as her cousin nodded. "Fancy that! We get twopence, and Roger had only a penny a week before he went to school."
"Why don't you ask your father for more?" questioned Edgar thoughtlessly.
"Because he can't afford to give us more; he would if he could." Polly rose, and picked up her basket of primroses as she spoke. "I think it's time we started for home," she said, "for mother told us we were to be back by one o'clock."
Accordingly the children left the wood and retraced their footsteps along the high road, Polly carrying her basket very carefully, and looking admiringly at her flowers every now and then. Edgar gave his cousins a description of the handsomely illustrated copy of 'The Pilgrim's Progress' which his mother had procured for him; he seemed exceedingly pleased with it, and promised to show it to his companions one day.
They had nearly reached the town when they were overtaken by Mr. Marsh, who was being driven by a groom in a dog-cart. He had been to the clay works and was now on his way home.
"Well, young folks," he said good-humouredly as the groom, obeying his master's order, brought the dog-cart to a standstill, "have you been for a ramble in the country? All well at home, Polly? Yes. That's right. You're looking blooming yourself, child, with those bright eyes and those rosy cheeks. Edgar, you'd better jump up behind and return with me. Well, Roger, how are you?" he asked. His son climbed into the back seat of the vehicle as he spoke.