"Are you not comfortable, my child?"
"No, mother," Rotha said with a sob.
"What do you want?" Mrs. Carpenter spoke with a gentle soft accent, which half soothed, half reproached Rotha, though she did not mean any reproach. Rotha, nevertheless went on.
"I want nearly everything, mother! everything that we haven't got."
"It would not make you happy, if you had it."
"Why not? Why wouldn't it?"
"Because nothing of that sort can. There is only one thing that makes people happy."
"I know; you mean religion. But I am not religious. And if I was happy, mother, I should want those other things too."
"If you were happy—you would be happy," Mrs. Carpenter said with a slight smile.
"That would not hinder my wanting other things. I should want, as I do now, nice dresses, and a nice house, and books, and not to have to cook and wash dishes, and to take a ride sometimes and a walk sometimes—not a walk to market—I want all that, mother."