"When they do," said Edith, sceptically.
"Edith, don't be so mean!" cried Cynthia. "Jack wants to begin to make money, and I think he's right. I'm going to help him all I can, and we want you to be on our side to help talk over papa. He is always telling Jack that he'll soon have to begin to work, and now here's a chance."
"Papa wants Jack to make some money to help support us when he is old enough, but he wants him to finish his education first, of course. And I am sure he doesn't want him to lay out a lot of money, as he would have to do in raising hens."
"That's just like a girl," said Jack, scornfully. "Don't you know that there's always a lot of risk in anything you undertake, and you've got to take the chances? There are very few things you don't have to put money into."
"Of course, for a grown man. But a boy of your age ought to work for a salary, or something of that sort—not go investing."
Cynthia stirred uneasily. She knew this was just the wrong thing to say to Jack. Unfortunately, Edith was so apt to say the wrong thing.
Jack sprang to his feet. "There's no use arguing with girls. I may be a 'boy of my age,' but I've got some sense, and I know there's money in this. I'm not going to say another word about it to anybody until father comes home, and I can talk it over with him."
And Jack walked off around the corner of the house, whistling to Ben and Chester, the two big setters, to follow him, which they did with joyful alacrity.
"There!" exclaimed Cynthia, "now he's gone off mad. I don't see why you said that, Edith."
"Said what? I'm sure it is true. The idea of a boy of his age—"