Mary Wing moved about as she talked. She was picking up fire-engines and pieces of cake, overlooked by the grandmother in the suddenness of departure. Angela's eyes followed her over the room, and she felt a touch of envy. It was really a pretty room, much prettier than anything in the Flowers' little house, large, light, attractively furnished, most comfortable and livable. But, of course, it was a simple matter to have pretty things if you had the money to buy them; which, in brief, was just what the Flowers didn't have. It suddenly came over Angela that her advanced cousin was, comparatively speaking, a _rich_ woman. She said something of the sort aloud presently. Mary Wing replied that she worked pretty hard for all she had. "Our furniture is so old and awful I can't do a thing with it," continued Angela. "I rub and scrub and polish, but it just seems to get worse. And then the parlor is that long, narrow shape, like a sleeping-car, and needs papering so dreadfully! You know, Cousin Mary," said the girl, with a rueful laugh, "we were never so poor in all our lives! You don't know how hard it is to accomplish _anything_, when you literally haven't a cent to spend." Cousin Mary, who could be very nice when she wanted to, expressed herself very sympathetically. "And I do know something about it, my dear, you see, for I've been that way myself." "If father'd only get some patients!" said Angela. "But he's so funny, he just seems to think a family gets along somehow, and never even put up his sign till I begged him to! And, of course, Wallie doesn't contribute anything; he just puts away everything he makes for his education--" "It _is_ hard on you, poor dear--" "He has to, of course. But I _have_ wished we had Tommy back, these weeks since we've been here! He was the sweetest, most generous thing, till he married...." But soon Cousin Mary gave the conversation a characteristic twist, with the very suggestion that Mr. Garrott had once promised to make to Angela, and then permanently backed down. "Angela," she said, suddenly thoughtful, "did you ever think at all of going to work--regularly, for yourself?" The girl looked up, in surprise. "Going to work? You mean in an office?" "Yes--something of that sort. You--" "Why, no, Cousin Mary! I've never _had_ to think of that. Of course, father can still support me. I didn't mean you to think--" "Oh, of _course_! I understand that perfectly! I meant only on your own account, my dear, so that you could have your own money, all you want of it. It makes a difference, as I can testify! And then, too, I know a good many girls with plenty of money already, who go to work--well, just for the fun of it!--Helen Carson, for instance." Angela looked as if she hardly knew how to explain herself to one holding her cousin's known ideas of fun. However, she endeavored, sweetly.