“Of course it could. And I don’t suppose it would take much to buy it either.”
He solemnly dissented. She asked why not.
“Because,” said he, “that bit of sunlight only exists in the eye that sees it.”
“That’s sentiment,” said June severely. “You might say the same of anything.”
“You might, of course. Nothing is, but thinking makes it so.”
Again June heard the queer little tremble in his voice, again she saw that strange look steal across his face.
“What you say sounds very deep, but if you talk in that way I’m quite sure you’ll never get on in the world.”
“I’ll be quite happy to live as I am, if only I’m allowed to see the wonderful things that are in it.”
June had a fierce desire to shake him, but he beamed upon her, and she became a lamb.
“On Saturday,” he said, “when we go to our little treasure house, you will see what I mean.”