“Well,” said the child, after a long, thoughtful pause, “why don’t you give it away?”
“Hum! Your suggestion, my dear––”
“But, perhaps, no one would take it?” interrupted Celestina.
“Perhaps they wouldn’t!” agreed Straws, rubbing his hands. “So, under the circumstances, let us consider how we may cultivate some of the vices of the rich. It is a foregone conclusion, set down by the philosophers, that misery assails riches. The philosophers were never rich and therefore they know. Besides, they are unanimous on the subject. It only remains to make the best of it and cultivate the vanities of our class. Where shall I begin? ‘Riches betray man into arrogance,’ saith Addison. Therefore will I be arrogant; while you, my dear, shall be proud.”
“That will be lovely!” assented Celestina, as a matter of habit. She went to the bed and began smoothing the sheets deftly.
“My dear!” expostulated Straws. “You mustn’t do that.”
“Not make the bed!” she asked, in surprise.
“No.”
“Nor bring your charcoal?”
“No.”