“I never knew anything about money until that visit to Newport,” said Letty, candidly. “We had bills—and when the wheat crop was sold it paid the bills—that is, as far as it would go—for the wheat crop never was quite as much as we expected, and the bills were always a great deal more than we expected. But I found the spending of that money in New York delightful.”
“So did I,” answered Farebrother. “Never enjoyed anything more in my life. You had more actual, substantial fun in spending that money than my sisters have out of so many thousands.”
“But I think,” remarked the astute Letty, “that it is more the way we show it. Your sisters are used to money—”
“That’s it—and so it is as necessary to them as the air we breathe—but as we breathe air all the time, we are not conscious of any ecstatic bliss in doing it.”
“Perhaps—but, you see, I am bent on enjoyment, and I am bent on showing it as well as feeling it.”
“In short, you are a very wise girl,” said Farebrother, smiling, “and I think it is a pity that you are so determined on never bestowing so much wisdom and cheerfulness on some man or other.”
“I have never said I wouldn’t.”
“Oh, not in words perhaps, but I imagine a fixed determination on your part to hold on to your liberty. You may, however, succumb to the charms of Sir Archy Corbin, of Fox Court.”
Farebrother emphasized the “Sir” and the “Fox Court” in a way that Letty thought disagreeable—and how dared he talk so coolly of her marrying Sir Archy, without one single qualifying word of regret? And just as Farebrother intended, his suggestion did not help her to regard Sir Archy with any increase of favor.
“There he is now,” cried Farebrother, “shall I make off so as to give him a chance?”