But she ignored his last remark, to Beth the most important of the
entire conversation.

"How--how much will the--the money amount to?" she asked timidly.

Peter laughed.

"Figure it out for yourself. Half a million--six per cent--fifteen
years----"

"Half a million dollars----!"

"A million--or more!"

"A million! God-a-mercy!"

Peter recognized one of Aunt Tillie's expressions, Beth's vocabulary
being inadequate to the situation.

"But you haven't got it yet," he said.

"And I daren't think of gettin' it. I won't think of it. I'd get my
brain so full of things I wanted it would just naturally _bust_. Oh
lordy!"

Peter laughed.

"You do want a lot of things, don't you?"

"Of course. A silk waist, a satin skirt, some silk stockings--but most
of all, a real sure enough piano," she gasped. And then, as though in
reproach of her selfishness, "And I could pay off the mortgage on Aunt
Tillie's farm back in the clearing!"

"How much is that?"

"Three thousand dollars. I've already paid off three hundred."

"There ought to be enough for that," said Peter soberly.

"Oh, Mr. Nichols. I hope you don't think I'm an awful fool talkin' this
way."

"Not unless you think _I_ am."

"But it _is_ nice to dream of things sometimes."

"Yes. I do that too. What do you dream of, Beth?"

"Oh, of bein' a great singer, mostly--standin' on a stage with people
lookin' up and clappin' their hands at me."

"What else?"

"Oh," she laughed gayly, "I used to dream of marryin' a prince--all
girls do. But there ain't any princes now to marry."

"No, that's true," he assented. "The old world hasn't any use for
princes now." And then, "But why did you want to marry a prince?" he
asked.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just fairy tales. Haven't you ever lived in a
fairy tale and loved a princess?"

"Yes, I've lived in a fairy tale, but I've never loved a princess."

"I guess if everybody knew," said Beth with conviction, "the princes in
Europe are a pretty bad lot."

"Yes," said Peter slowly, "I guess they are."

She paused a moment, looking into the fire. And then, "Were you ever
acquainted with any princes in Europe, Mr. Nichols?"

Peter smiled. "Yes, Beth. I did know one prince rather
intimately--rather too intimately."

"Oh. You didn't like him?"

"No, not much. He was an awful rotter. The worst of it was that he had
good instincts and when he went wrong, he went wrong in spite of 'em.
You see--he was temperamental