“Rosy!” cried Fred, in a tone of profound brotherly scepticism.
“Come, Fred!” said Mary, emphatically; “you have no right to be so critical.”
“Do you mean anything particular—just now?”
“No, I mean something general—always.”
“Oh, that I am idle and extravagant. Well, I am not fit to be a poor man. I should not have made a bad fellow if I had been rich.”
“You would have done your duty in that state of life to which it has not pleased God to call you,” said Mary, laughing.
“Well, I couldn’t do my duty as a clergyman, any more than you could do yours as a governess. You ought to have a little fellow-feeling there, Mary.”
“I never said you ought to be a clergyman. There are other sorts of work. It seems to me very miserable not to resolve on some course and act accordingly.”
“So I could, if—” Fred broke off, and stood up, leaning against the mantel-piece.
“If you were sure you should not have a fortune?”