“Good enough!” she said, with severe contempt. “I always knew I could sing; even poor mamma knew. But I did not condescend to say much to them. I said, ‘I am a gentleman’s daughter,’ and walked away.” “Well, girls are very funny,” said Law. “How you bully me about working! morning, noon, and night, you are never done nagging; but the moment it comes to your own turn----” “To my own turn!” Lottie looked at him aghast. “To be sure. Oh, that’s all very fine about being a gentleman’s daughter. We know pretty well what that means, and so does everybody. I wonder, Lottie, you that have some sense, how you could be so silly? He must have laughed.” “Oh, hold your tongue, Law! I suppose they think nothing counts but money. When you are poor you are always insulted. I should not care for money, not for itself, not for the gold and silver,” said Lottie; “nor even so very much for the nice things that one could buy; but, oh, to be above people’s remarks, to be known for what you are, not looked down upon, not insulted----” “It depends upon what you call being insulted,” said Law; “if any man had said that to me, I should have thought him next to an angel. What is insulting about it? If you like money (and who doesn’t like money?) why there’s the easiest way in the world of getting it. Sing! I’d sing my head off,” said Law, “if that was all that was wanted. And you sing _for pleasure_; you _like_ singing! I can’t tell what you are thinking of. If I had known you were so good as that--but one never thinks much of one’s own sister, somehow,” the youth added, with easy frankness. He was so much excited, however, that he left his tea, and strode up and down the room (three paces and a half, that was all the size of it) repeating “by Jove!” to himself. “If you mean not to do it, you had better not let _him_ know you could do it,” he announced, after an interval. Never in his life before had the easy-going young man been so moved. “It’s untold the money they make,” he said.