“There are other things besides gems, little girl.” Mrs. Bennett smiled and began to clear the table.
“Her hand would be as pretty as any one’s if she didn’t have to work so hard,” Billy thought loyally; and promised himself again that the first money he earned should buy his mother a diamond ring.
“Take May Nell into the garden with you, Billy,” Mrs. Bennett said; “I shall be busy with the Saturday work, and she will be happier in the sunshine. And don’t speak of the earthquake,” she warned him aside; “she must forget that as fast as possible.”
Outside the spring warmth and fragrance enfolded the children as a mantle, opening their hearts to each other. Billy showed his flock of pigeons, his white chickens and the house where they roosted and brought forth their fluffy broods. Old Bouncer barked and capered about them; and the little girl tried to decide which cat was the prettiest, white Flash watching for gophers in the green alfalfa, or Sir Thomas Katzenstein, his yellow mate, basking in the sun. “He isn’t yellow like any other cat I ever saw; he’s shaded so beautifully.”
“Yes, sister says he’s rare, Persian or something; but I guess he’s only a plain cat. He’s a lazy thing.”
“Why doesn’t your mama have a man to take care of the grounds?” she questioned after she had told him something of her parents and home.
“She can’t, you know; she and sister have to work hard to make what we spend now. I don’t do half enough myself.”
“Giving music lessons isn’t work. I’d love to do that.”
“You bet it’s work! ’Specially when she gets hold of a cub like me.”
“‘You bet’ isn’t nice,” the child chid gently, and waited a moment before continuing. “My papa won’t let my mama work. He went to South America to get rich. When he comes back, he wrote in a letter to me, I shall be as rich as a princess.”