John knew very little. In fact he too very much doubted the "good of a girl." He told her so quite bluntly, but added that she'd better make the best of it.
"There must be some self-made women," insisted Betty. "I'll ask father to-night."
John thought deeply for a few minutes, seeing her distress. He really ransacked his mind, for besides sorrow for her sorrowing he could plainly see the admiration with which she regarded him, and he wanted to show her that he knew something about women too.
"There's Joan of Arc," he said, "and—there's Grace Darling!"
But Betty was indignant. "They're in the history book!" she said.
John thought again, but could only shake his head.
"All women can do," he said, "is wash up, and cook dinners, and mend clothes!"
Betty's lips quivered.
"I won't be a woman," she said, "I won't!"
John owned to sharing her craving to be rich, but he wanted to make his wealth himself—which set Betty's imagination galloping down a new road. She had only thought hitherto of her grandfather's riches, which had seemed to her and Cyril to be all the money there was in the world.