rget to sing.

"'But,' you'll ask, 'how is it that not caring too much about food and
clothes may be counted as a valuable possession?' And I'll answer, 'That
man is strong, John, whose appetite is his servant, not his master. And
that man is stronger yet if, wearing ragged, old clothes, all the same
he can keep his pride high. For "Is not the life more than meat, and the
body than raiment?" Well, that's how it's been with you!

"Some of your riches consist of things which you haven't got--now that
sounds strange, does it not? And I don't mean the scarlet fever which
you haven't, or a hair lip, or such like. No. You're rich in not being
morbid, for instance,--in not dwelling on what's unpleasant, and ugly.
Also because you don't harbor malice and ill-will. Because you don't
fret, and sulk, and brood, all these goings-on being a sad waste of
time.

"And now let's count over the riches that you've got in your character.
In the back of your Handbook, Mr. Roosevelt, writing about boy scouts,
named four qualities for a fine lad: unselfish, gentle, strong, brave.
They're your qualities, lad dear. And you proved the last one when you
took that whipping with the ropes--ah, is a boy poor when he's got the
spunk in him? He is not! Well, along with those four qualities I can
honestly add these others: you're grateful, you're clean (in heart and
in mouth, liking and speaking what's good), you're merciful, you're
truthful, you're ambitious, you've got decent instincts--inherited, but
a part of your riches, just the same.

"As for the way you like what helps you (and queer as it may seem, too
many boys _don't_ like what helps them), that has astonished and
pleased me many a day. I remember your telling me once that you got
tired of prunes and potatoes. And I said to you, 'Prunes are good for
you, and nothing could be better than baked potatoes,'--I knowing how
you relished them mashed! Well, after that, never another mashed potato
dared to show its eyes! And, oh, how you did make away with the prunes!

"It's the good things you've got in your character, and the bad things
that you haven't got, which explain how it comes that you're loved the
way you are--by Narcissa, and Grandpa (ah, it's handsome, is that old
soldier's love for you! it's grand!), and Mrs. Kukor, and the Western
gentleman, and Mr. Perkins, and me! With so much love as all that, could
you ever think of yourself as poor? Now you just couldn't!

"And then consider