"But the possessors of wealth should be taught the value of money, just the same, don't you think so?" Mrs. Clyde urged. "Surely!" he agreed. "And Blue Bonnet has a very fair idea of its value, I think. She gives more people a good time on it than any one I know. You never knew her to stay awake nights worrying over something for herself, now did you?" "Blue Bonnet is not given to worrying over anything. Not that I wish her to. She is dear and warm-hearted and generous like her mother, but a little heedless,--Lucinda thinks. She needs to be taught that wealth entails responsibility." "Lucinda!" was Mr. Ashe's mental ejaculation. He might have known the source of Mrs. Clyde's arguments. Miss Clyde had undoubtedly sound ideas on the up-bringing of the young, and any amount of New England thrift. He had unlimited respect for her strength of character; but also his opinion as to why she was still _Miss_ Clyde. "Maybe I've a queer mental twist," he went on audibly, "but that's just what I don't see the need of. Poor folk have to worry about making ends meet; but if money is of any use at all it's to save one that kind of fretting. When one feels the 'responsibility of wealth,' then it's a burden. I'd hate to think Blue Bonnet would ever get to that pass." Mrs. Clyde wished for Lucinda just at this moment; Miss Clyde could have met this argument with a worthy rejoinder, she was confident. "Don't you fear that thoughtless spending now may grow into future extravagance?" she asked rather helplessly. "When the little girl begins to worry about bird-of-paradise aigrettes and pearl pendants for herself, I'll believe she's extravagant. As long as she spends only what she can afford and bestows it all upon others, I'll not begin to fret," he said decidedly. "Then you don't think this camping-trip an extravagance? She is doing so much for the girls already that it seems rather unnecessary to me." "It will be a wonderful experience for the girls--and they're just the right age to enjoy it most. A few years later they'll fuss about dirt and want springs on their beds." Grandmother Clyde smothered a sigh; she had reached the latter stage, but perhaps it was not her place to "reason why." The conversation ended for the present, and during her stay on the ranch was not resumed.