"Let's count how many hours in a day," said Betty, twisting about to see a clock, the high post office clock they were walking under now, and found it. "I want to make my fortune quickly and go home and surprise them. How much money is in a fortune, John?"
John considered deeply for a minute and then gave it as his idea that five hundred pounds was usually called a fortune.
"The child's song touched and stirred that latent sentimentality of theirs."
"That'll take a good bit of making," said Betty.
"Well, you didn't expect to make it in a day did you?" asked John roughly.
"Oh, no," said Betty cheerfully, "I was only wondering how many hours there are in a day—at a shilling an hour."
She began to count slowly on the fingers of one hand all the hours until seven o'clock at night, the first hour to be from eight till nine o'clock in the morning.
"Eleven hours!" she said. "That's eleven shillings! Eleven shillings, John. Oh, and one hour gone, that's twelve! Twelve shillings a day, just fancy, John! Oh, I'll soon be rich."
"But you couldn't sing every hour in the day," said sensible John, although his eyes plainly expressed admiration for her brilliant career. "Why, you'd get hoarse!"