Joy glanced up quickly, and saw her sister and the old man had paused at a little distance from her. She listened curiously for Celia's answer. It filled her with a sense of intense astonishment.
"Not in the very least," was the apparently careless reply.
"Nonsense, my dear!" In spite of his words, Joy noted that Sir Jasper's voice sounded very pleased. "Money is a very good thing sometimes."
"Is it?" Celia questioned, innocently.
"A very good thing sometimes," he repeated; "but there are occasions when it is useless, quite useless. What good is it to me—a poor old man who has lost his all?"
"But you do good with it," Celia reminded him, gently. "Miss Mary was telling us only yesterday how kind you have been to the poor widow of that farm labourer who died suddenly last week. And see what you have done for us!"
"You are a grateful little soul, Celia," he told her, with a tender inflection in his voice. "You are like your dear mother."
Joy heard no more, for she hastily rose and retreated into the house. She was full of indignation against her sister. What could have induced Celia to utter such a falsehood as to say she did not in the least care for money, when all her life she had bemoaned her poverty, and longed for wealth?
Later in the evening, when the sisters were preparing for bed, Joy taxed Celia with having told Sir Jasper an untruth. For a moment the elder girl was confused, then broke into a laugh as she exclaimed: "Oh, Joy, you surely don't imagine I would be as silly as you, and tell Uncle Jasper I cared for money, do you?"
"But you do care for money, Celia!"