"Dear me! that would be worse than giving you the money—worse for my pocket. I suppose you'd want to do your shopping in some really fashionable Boylston Street establishment?"
"Now, papa, you're laughing at me!"
"Perhaps I am," replied her father. "But really, Brenda, I don't believe that Manuel's mother would thank you for a carpet. Didn't you say they all lived in one room? A bare floor is easier to keep clean."
"Oh, well, I must buy them something, and my pocket money won't go far. Besides, I've spent all you gave me this month."
"Well, Manuel and his mother and all those brothers and sisters have lived in Boston very comfortably for several years without any help from you. If you should give them a carpet they might grow discontented. The next thing they would want might be a piano, and from what you say I hardly think that room would hold a piano as well as the whole family and the cook-stove."
"Oh, papa, I believe that you are making fun of me."
"No, indeed, I am not, but I wish you to be reasonable."
"If there's anything in the world I hate it's that word reasonable. It always means that I'm not to have what I want."
"There you are un-reasonable," answered Mr. Barlow. "We will talk no more about it now, but some day perhaps your mother will go down with you to see Manuel, and then you can both tell me whether the Rosas ought to have a piano as well as a carpet."
With this Brenda had to be content, but the next afternoon when the Four Club had its regular weekly meeting she and Nora grew excited as they described the poverty of the Rosas to the other two.