"No, it's not envy!" cried Sarah in loyal defense of the absent friend. "I know Molly as well as I know myself. She hasn't changed, but she thinks I've changed; she thinks I feel above her just because I've got this two-story brick. And I don't blame her a bit. When we left Millville and moved into town, it looked just like we had turned our backs on all our old friends. I'd feel just as Molly does, if I were in Molly's place. I've wanted to have Molly and Annie and all the rest of my friends to spend the day with me,--I've only waited because I wanted to feel at home in my own house, before I had visitors,--but now I can't do it. We've got a fine house, David, and plenty of money, but we've lost our old friends; and what is life without friends?" The god of Mammon had showered his favors on these simple souls, but they would never be worshippers of the god. David, too, had felt the barrier of wealth rising, hard and cruel, between him and the friends of a lifetime, and his heart echoed Sarah's question, "What is life without friends?" "Well," he said, with an effort at lightness, "if our old friends forsake us, we'll have to make new ones." "But I don't want new friends!" cried Sarah, with the accent of a fretful child, "Haven't I just told you I couldn't talk to that Mrs. Emerson?" A sudden thought seemed to strike David. He took out his watch and glanced at it. "It's time for you to take another dose of the medicine the doctor left. I have to go down-town for a few minutes. You lie still and see if you can't sleep a little." He handed her the medicine and left the room. Sarah waited till he was out of the house, and then she rose hastily from the bed and began making a hurried toilet. When David reappeared, he found her fully dressed and the marks of tears gone from her face. "That medicine's helped you already," he said cheerfully; "and here's a dictionary, and we'll find out what that word means." The dictionary was an unfamiliar book to David, but after a patient search he found the strange word. "Here it is: civic, of or pertaining to a city, a citizen, or citizenship." He looked hopefully at Sarah. She shook her head rather sadly. "I don't know a bit more now than I did before, David, but never mind that word. I told you awhile ago that I could stand anything, if we only felt alike about it, and I'm goin' to stand this." "That's right," said David heartily; "and while you're standing it, I'll be looking for a way out of it. I didn't build this house for you to stand, I built it for you to enjoy, and if you don't enjoy it, you don't have to live in it." At that moment the supper bell rang. "Come on, honey," said David, holding out his hand to help her from the chair, "you'll feel better after you've had something to eat."