“Uncommon common,” agreed Ho Ha somewhat paradoxically. “Happens every day. You read about it in the newspapers. I dare say she, he, or it got the idea while lining the pantry shelves with ’em. What’s money for, anyway, Keturah?”
“Money,” interjected Mermaid, “is to make those who haven’t it want it and those who have it want more.”
“Money,” said Miss Smiley, sententiously, “is to hang on to until you know when to let go.”
“Money,” Ho Ha framed his own definition, “is only to make some other things more valuable.”
“You’re right, Uncle Ho,” Mermaid conceded. “If Dickie Hand’s father—your brother—didn’t have as much money as he has, Dickie would be worth almost nothing to me.”
“Child!” Keturah rebuked her.
“Oh, Aunt Keturah, I don’t mean that I value Dickie for his father’s money,” explained Mermaid, impatiently, “but don’t you see if his father were poor Dickie would be so—so unmanageable. I shouldn’t be able to do a thing with him! But his father’s rather rich, even if he did lose a lot of money a while ago, and I can just make Dickie behave himself by telling him that he can’t possibly get any credit for what he makes of himself because there’s all that money to help him. That makes Dickie simply wild, and he says he’ll be somebody in spite of his father and his money. He gets almost desperate—which is quite necessary,” she added, thoughtfully. “The other day he said, ‘Damn my father’s money! I’ll show you it hasn’t anything to do with me!’ Of course I gave him the—the dickens but I couldn’t help being rather pleased.”
Miss Smiley regarded Mermaid with great sternness, but Ho Ha’s shoulders seemed to move queerly. Finally he choked.
“If my cooking chokes you, Hosea, you’d better not eat it,” Keturah said with considerable dignity.
“I beg your pardon, Keturah,” was the humble reply.