“But you are happy, Miss Elizabeth,” said Katie wistfully.
“Am I? I ought to be, I suppose; yes, I think so. I am content, and that is better than happiness, they say.”
This was something that required consideration.
“‘Godliness with contentment is great gain;’ that is what Paul said. Perhaps he thought it better than happiness too.”
“And Solomon says, ‘A contented mind is a continual feast,’” said Miss Elizabeth, smiling at her face of grave consideration.
“I wonder what is the difference?” said Katie. “Folk are contented without knowing it, I suppose. I have been contented all my life, and if I had my wish about some things I would be happy.”
“What things?”
“If we had no debt,” said Katie, decidedly. “And if we had a little more money, so that we would not need to consider about things so much, and so that Davie could go to school all the year, and perhaps to the college, and the rest too, Nannie and Sandy and all. And we should have the dairy built over the burn, with a store of ice in it, and marble shelves, like one grandmother saw at Braemar. Well, not marble perhaps. That might be foolish, but we should have everything to make the work light, and there would be time for other things. My grandfather should plant trees, and graft them and prime them and work away at his leisure, not troubling himself as to how it was all to come out at the end of the year. And my mother should have a low carriage, just like yours, Miss Elizabeth, and old Kelso should have nothing to do but draw it for her pleasure. And grannie—oh, grannie should wear a soft grey gown every day of the year, and neck-kerchiefs of the finest lawn, as she used to do—and such sheets and table-cloths as she should have, and she should never need to wet her fingers—only I am not sure that she would be any happier for that,” said Katie, pulling herself up suddenly.
“And what would you have for yourself?” said Miss Elizabeth, wishing to hear more.
“I should have leisure,” said Katie decidedly, as though she had thought it over and made up her mind. “I should have time for fine sewing, and to learn things—not just making lessons of them, and hurrying over them as they do at the school. I should have time to think about them, and I should have books and music, and a room like yours. Oh, dear me! What is the use of thinking about it,” said Katie, with a sigh.