"I saw thousands after the Chicago fire."
"Yes, when they had the excitement all about them."
"And who is the object of your exasperation? Who is responsible for your circumstances? Who but God?"
"God didn't lose that sixty dollars, and He didn't lose that money in Chicago."
"Well, now, my dear, I'm working hard at my book, and I think I'm making a good thing of it. I hope it'll bring us a lift."
"A book on that horrid subject isn't going to sell. I wouldn't touch it with a pair of tongs: I'd run from it. Nobody'll read it but a few old long-haired geologists. I'd like to know what good all your geology and botany and those other horrid things ever did you. You couldn't make a cent out of all them put together. You're always paying expressage on fossils and bugs and sea-weeds and trash. All that comes of it is just waste."
"Does anything but waste come of your fault-finding?"
"Now, who's finding fault?"
Dr. Lively left the table and took down his case of sea-weeds, and turned it over in his hand.
"The only thing that came through the fire," he said musingly.