ever made you think I was rich? My dear child, I am poor—poor. My father was a college professor. You know they are poor enough, in all conscience."
"You may be what you call poor, but you're rich to us," answered Pheasant, sulkily.
"Now listen," continued Alayne, sternly. "My father left me five thousand dollars insurance, and a bungalow which I sold for fourteen thousand, which makes nineteen thousand dollars. That is absolutely all. So you see how rich I am."
"It sounds a lot," said Pheasant, stolidly, and their hands parted and they both industriously plucked at the grass.
The significance of other allusions was now made plain to Alayne. She frowned as she asked: "What put such an idea into your head, Pheasant? Surely the rest of the family are not suffering from that hallucination."
"We all thought you were frightfully well off. I don't know exactly how it came about—someone said—Gran said—no, Meg said it was—" She stopped short, suddenly pulled up by a tardy caution.
"Who said what?" insisted Alayne.
"I think it was Uncle Nick who said—"
"Said what?"
"That it was a good thing that Eden—oh, bother, I can't remember what he said. What does it matter, anyhow?"
Alayne had to subdue a feeling of helpless anger before she answered, quietly: "It does not matter. But I want you not to have the notion that I am rich. It is ridiculous. It puts me in a false position. You knew that I worked for my living before I married Eden. Why did you think I did that?"
"We knew it was publishing books. It didn't seem like work."
