"I only sang twice in this hour," said Betty; "the rest of the time I've just been counting my money and looking round me."
"But you mightn't make a shilling every hour," said John.
"But—some hours I may make more, so it's about equal."
"I wish we could have some breakfast," said John, reverting to his trouble. "I'm jolly hungry, I can tell you."
"So am I," said Betty. "Twelve shillings a day—six days in a week. Oh, can I sing on Sundays, John?"
"Hymns," quoth the boy.
"Um! I could sing 'Scatter seeds of kindness' and 'Yield not to temptation.' Um! I never thought of hymns. I think I'll sing hymns to-day as well, 'cause I'm not very sure of my song yet, and every now and then I have to stop to look at the words. Can I sing hymns on other days than Sundays, John?"
"Better not," said the cautious John; "better keep the proper things for the proper days. Well, Betty Bruce, if you're going to stay here all day, I'm not. I'm getting awfully hungry."
At last Betty's motherliness awoke.
"My poor John!" she said, "of course you're hungry. We'll go to a shop and get a really good breakfast. I wasn't thinking. When a person begins to make a lot of money, they generally forget other things, don't they?"