"Yes," she answered, but so carelessly that she seemed to speak without having thought.
"You do not know what poverty means!" rejoined Alister. "We may have to endure much for our people!"
"It means YOU any way, does it not? If you and poverty come together, welcome you and your friend!—I see I must confess a thing! Do you remember telling me to read Julius Caesar?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how Portia gave herself a wound, that she might prove to her husband she was able to keep a secret?"
"Yes, surely!"
"I have my meals in my room now, so I can do as I please, and I never eat the nice things dear mother always sends me, but potatoes, and porridge, and bread and milk."
"What IS that for, Mercy?"
"To show you I am worthy of being poor—able at least to be poor. I have not once tasted anything VERY nice since the letter that made my father so angry."
"You darling!"