Do you
understand me, Polly?"
"Yes, I think I do," said Polly. "And it doesn't make any
difference whether we are rich or poor, does it?"
Her mother paused for a moment, as if the question were a hard one
to answer. Polly had a way of asking deeper questions than she
realized. Mrs. Adams rocked back and forth in silence two or three
times; then she said,--
"Yes and no, Polly. Money in itself doesn't make the least bit of
difference; but people that have it can make more of themselves,--
I don't say that they do, remember. If Jean didn't have to wash so
many dishes nor mend so many stockings, she could give more time
to study and reading every year. But, after all, I don't believe
she would be half so fine, unselfish a girl as she is now, when
she has to give up doing what she likes, to help her mother. It is
just the same whether it is money, or family, or a fine mind, or
beauty; the more that is given you, the more you are expected to
make of it, and the more the shame to you if you neglect it. But
we're getting into very deep subjects for so near bed-time. What
did Alan come for?"
"Just to tell me about the girls," said Polly. "He says they're
going to have a pony, and everything.
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