bed, struggling hard to hold steady lips and to keep dryeyed. Then came the habitual lightning-like change of subject.
“I hope,” said the little Scout, “I just hope that the Bee Master didn’t have very much money in the bank. I hope there’s only going to be a little of it.”
“But why?” said Jamie.”
“Oh,” said the little Scout, “I can’t see the use of people havin’ so much money. It don’t seem to do anything but make a lot of trouble. I been lookin’ on for a good many years, and seems to me most of the fightin’ and the fussin’ and the lawsuits and things going wrong is among the people that’ve got a whole lot of money. Why can’t folks be satisfied with a reasonable amount?”
“Well,” said Jamie, glad to change the subject, “what would you say was enough? What would you think would be about the right amount for us to have?”
The little Scout thought that over and then announced conclusively: “I’d say that anybody that’s got the east acre or the west acre of this place, and a long row of beehives and lots of fruit trees, and flowers and flowers and worlds of flowers, and the sand and the sea, and a little house that yells ‘Come on in!’ clear across the road to you, I’d say if they had enough to own that, and get the bread and butter and the strawberry pop and the hot dogs, I’d say they didn’t need another thing on earth—clothes, of course, I forgot about enough clothes to cover ’em up with——”
“And didn’t you forget about a horse?” said Jamie.
