“Mother, if you wanted to do something very good and wise, and if you could not do it without money, what should you do?” “There are two ways of obtaining money for such wants; one is by earning; and the other is by saving. Now both are good, because both imply self-denial. Do you understand me, Tom? If you have to earn money, you must steadily go on doing what you do not like perhaps; such as working when you would like to be playing, or in bed, or sitting talking with me over the fire. You deny yourself these little pleasures; and that is a good habit in itself, to say nothing of the industry and energy you have to exert in working. If you save money, you can easily see how you exercise self-denial. You do without something you wish for in order to possess the money it would have cost. Inasmuch as self-denial, energy, and industry are all good things, you do well either to earn or to save. But you see the purpose for which you want the money must be taken into consideration. You say, for ‘something wise and good.’ Either earning or saving becomes holy in this case. I must then think which will be most consistent with my other duties, before I decide whether I will earn or save money.” “I don’t quite know what you mean, mother.” “I will try and explain myself. You know I have to keep a little shop, and to try and get employment in knitting stockings, and to clean my house, and to mend our clothes, and many other things. Now, do you think I should be doing my duty if I left you in the evenings, when you come home from school, to go out as a waiter at ladies’ parties? I could earn a good deal of money by it, and I could spend it well among those who are poorer than I am (such as lame Harry), but then I should be leaving you alone in the little time that we have to be together; I do not think I should be doing right even for our ‘good and wise purpose’ to earn money, if it took me away from you at nights: do you, Tom?” “No, indeed; you never mean to do it, do you, mother?” “No,” said she, smiling; “at any rate not till you are older. You see at present then, I cannot _earn_ money, if I want a little more than usual to help a sick neighbour. I must then try and _save_ money. Nearly every one can do that.” “Can _we_, mother? We are so careful of everything. Ned Dixon calls us stingy: what could _we save_?” “Oh, many and many a little thing. We use many things which are luxuries; which we do not want, but only use them for pleasure. Tea and sugar—butter—our Sunday’s dinner of bacon or meat—the grey ribbon I bought for my bonnet, because you thought it prettier than the black, which was cheaper; all these are luxuries. We use very little tea or sugar, it is true; but we might do without any.” “You did do without any, mother, for a long, long time, you know, to help widow Black; it was only for your bad head-aches.”