“Yes, I know, Aunt Mary. But—”
“But what, Honora?”
“Then why isn't he rich, as my father was?”
“Your father wasn't rich, my dear,” said Aunt Mary, sadly.
“Why, Aunt Mary!” Honora exclaimed, “he lived in a beautiful house, and owned horses. Isn't that being rich?”
Poor Aunt Mary!
“Honora,” she answered, “there are some things you are too young to understand. But try to remember, my dear, that happiness doesn't consist in being rich.”
“But I have often heard you say that you wished you were rich, Aunt Mary, and had nice things, and a picture gallery like Mr. Dwyer.”
“I should like to have beautiful pictures, Honora.”
“I don't like Mr. Dwyer,” declared Honora, abruptly.