She stopped, and while she tried to coordinate her ideas, Dr. Tom quietly waited for explanation or illustration of her meaning.
“I don’t like money, there’s the whole of it!” she gave him the sum of her attempt in one cast.
Dr. Tom continued to wait, smoking.
“In fact, I hate it.”
Dr. Tom continued to wait, without interrupting, or trying to help her disentangle her thought, of which he had in truth no inkling.
“I hate it, and I love it, both. That’s truer, I suppose. But I can’t be at rest with it.”
“Never fear, girl,”–his tone was humorous,–“you’ll get used to it. Just from watching you, I should have fancied you were pretty well used to it already.”
“When I was a child it was just the same way with candy,” she went on with her own train of thought, not minding his; “I loved it–and gobbled it right up. Some of the girls made theirs last and last. I ate mine at once. And it wasn’t only because I was a pig with no self-control. I wanted to have done with it and go back to a sensible life. With this money I have the same feeling–and then another feeling that I sort of can’t account for, as if I wanted to get rid of it because there was something wrong in me having it.”
“That money? You sure earned it!” he came out vigorously. “Don’t be a goose, Nell.”
“I wasn’t thinking of what you think. But I’m afraid I am a goose, Tom, an awful goose, and I’m ashamed of it. I somehow can’t feel it right–there!–to have more 356than the rest. Come right down to it, I feel mean in having something the rest haven’t got, and keeping it from them, like a nasty fat boy stuffing pie with a lot of hungry ragamuffins looking on. I know it isn’t good common sense, or how could rich people be so all right and calm in their minds as they are, and have everybody’s respect? Rich people are all right, I’ve always sort of looked up to them, with their advantages and things. I haven’t a bit of fault to find. But Tom, I suppose the amount of it is I was born poor and I go on having the feelings of the poor. If any one asks me for anything and appears to need it, I’ve got to give it or feel too mean to live. Me, Nell, who was poor myself for so long, how would I look hardening my heart against any one who came and wanted to borrow? I’d be ashamed to look them in the eye.”