"Mother," said Rotha, one day, "I think it would be better to do without tea and have a little more fire."
"I do not know how to get along without tea," Mrs. Carpenter said with a sigh.
"But you are getting along without almost everything else."
"We do very well yet," answered the mother patiently.
"Do we?" said Rotha. "If this is what you call very well— Mother, you cannot live upon tea."
"I feel as if I could not live without it."
"Has Mr. Digby given you any money yet?"
"The shirts are only just finished."
"And what are you going to do now? But he'll pay you a good many dollars, won't he, mother? Twenty four, for twelve shirts. But there is eight to be paid for rent, I know, and that leaves only sixteen. And he can afford to pay the whole twenty four, just for a dozen shirts! Mother, I don't think some people have a right to be so rich, while others are so poor."
"'The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich,'"—Mrs. Carpenter answered.