"He is very rich, mother, isn't he?" Celia inquired, her blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Rich as far as money is concerned," Mrs. answered gravely, "but poor in other ways. He never made many friends, and as I told you just now, God has taken from him his only son—the being he loved above all the world. He is in indifferent health, too, Mr. Tillotson tells me. Poor Uncle Jasper!"
"Perhaps he wants to give us some of his money," Celia suggested, shrewdly. "Oh, mother dear, do say you'll go to the Moat House!"
"Are you so eager to leave your own home, Celia?" Mrs. Wallis asked, a little sadly.
"This is such a pokey little place, that I should not mind if we never came back again," Celia confessed; "and we've been so poor here!" she added, sighing.
"We have had all the necessaries of life," Mrs. Wallis reminded her, "and that is a great deal to be thankful for."
"Oh, yes, mother, I know! But, oh, I do dislike having to live in a shabby house, and wear dowdy clothes! Why, when Eric was home at Christmas he said Joy and I were such old-fashioned looking girls!" And Celia's face flushed with annoyance. "Joy doesn't mind," she continued; "as long as she has story books to read, she doesn't care for anything else."
"Oh, yes, indeed I do!" Joy interposed, quickly. "But what's the good of wishing for what one can't get?"
"I am sorry you are so discontented with your lot, Celia," Mrs. Wallis said, gravely, "but I question if you possessed all the luxuries wealth can provide, whether you would be satisfied even then."
"Oh, mother!" Celia cried, unbelievingly.