"Poor things, in bondage to their house!" said Norris, and they all looked solemnly at the multitude of lights shining through the trees. "There are ever so many disadvantages about being among the few very rich people in a western town, where most of your friends aren't opulent," Madeline went on. "When Mrs. Lenox makes a call, she has to wait while the woman changes her dress. And nobody says to her, 'Oh, do stay to lunch,' when they've nothing but oysters or beefsteak, but they wait till they get in an extra chef and then send her a formal invitation. I believe ours is one of the half-dozen houses where people don't pretend to be something quite different from what they are when Mrs. Lenox appears. And yet she's the most simple-minded and genuine person, and would rather have beefsteak and friendship than _paté de fois gras_ and good gowns any day." "Poor things!" said Dick again. "I think they are out on the terrace now. Would you like to go over and see them?" Madeline asked. "No, thank you," said Dick politely. "We won't make their life any more complicated. Besides, I prefer the society of you and the stars to that of the miserable too-rich. And they are not alone." "Of course not. They never are. But Mrs. Lenox said yesterday that late this fall, when every one else has gone into winter quarters, she is going to ask you and me and perhaps one or two others to visit her; and we'll have a serene and lovely time." "Do you think that there is any hope that they will have lost part of their money by that time?" asked Dick. "Father says Mr. Windsor has forgotten how to lose money, and of course Mr. Windsor and Mr. Lenox are all one." "I must see to it that I don't marry a millionaire's daughter," said Dick. CHAPTER V SALAD DAYS The most desirable thing in life is to have the sense of doing your duty without the trouble of doing it. Therefore days of preparation are always delicious days. There is the mingling of repose with all the joys of activity. To be planning to do things has in it more of triumph than the actual doing. It carries the irradiating light of hope and purpose, without the petty pin-prick of detail which comes when reality parodies ideals. Dick's first summer at home was a period of delight. He absorbed ideas and so felt that he was doing something in this city of his birth which now, in his manhood, came back to him as something new and strange. The weeks drifted by and he seemed to drift with them, though both mind and body were alert. All the things he learned and all the things he meant to do were tripled and quadrupled in interest when he passed them on to his two counselors-in-chief, Norris, solid and appreciative, Madeline, even more believing and more sympathizing, but glorified by that charm of sex which gilds even trifling contact of man and maid, making her friendship not only gilt but gold.