"I'd like to be vrezy rich," said Tom, "and then I'd be awfully kind to everybody. I'd have nobody poor at all."
"Nobody could be rich enough for that," I said.
"And being rich isn't the only way to being kind," said Miss Goldy-hair. "Don't wait for that, Tom, to begin."
"Of course not," I said. "Miss Goldy-hair's being kind to us has nothing to do with her being rich. You don't understand, Tom."
Tom never liked when I said he didn't understand, and now I see that I must have had rather a provoking way of saying it—like as if I wanted to put him down. I saw his face look vexed, and he answered rather crossly—
"It has to do with it. Miss Goldy-hair couldn't have brought us oranges, and jelly and things, if she hadn't been rich."
"And bikstwiks," added Racey.
"But you like me a little bit for myself, besides for the oranges and biscuits, don't you, Racey?—just a very little bit?"—said Miss Goldy-hair, laughing.
Racey, by way of answer, climbed up on her knee, and began hugging her. Miss Goldy-hair drew Tom to her and kissed him too, and then he looked quite happy.
"But I must go now," she said.