Jack, rather anxiously,
pausing in his task of endeavoring to draw a sketch from memory of an
automobile. "She coughed dreadfully last night; it woke me up. I wish
she didn't have to go out on rainy days."

"So do I," said Betty decidedly. "Don't you hate being poor, Jack?"

"If you were only grown up," Jack went on, ignoring his sister's
question, "you could go out and give the lessons on wet days or when
mother didn't feel well, and she could stay at home and rest."

"No, I couldn't," said Betty, dolefully. "You know I'm not a bit
musical; I couldn't play like mother if I tried all my life. I don't see
how I'm ever going to be any kind of a teacher if I can't go to school
and get a diploma. People can't teach without diplomas; Mrs. Flynn says
so. Her daughter's trying for one this year."

"Well, you would be able to do something any way," Jack maintained, "and
mother wouldn't have to work so dreadfully hard. I wish you were grown
up, Betty, only then I should have to be grown up too, and I shouldn't
like that."

"Why not?" inquired Betty in some surprise.

Jack flushed, and turned his face towards the wall.

"I don't know exactly," he stammered, "but I think--I'm sure it must be
much worse to be a grown up cripple, than to be a little boy one."

Betty left her seat by the window, and coming over to her brother's
side, sat down on the end of the sofa by Jack's feet.

"You wouldn't mind so much if you could be a great artist and paint
beautiful pictures, would you, Jack?" she asked gently.

"N--no, I don't suppose I should, not quite so much, because then I
could sell my pictures, and make lots of money for you and mother. Then
we could live in a lovely place in the country, and keep a carriage."

"And you could go to drive every day," added Betty, falling in at once
with Jack's fancy, "and mother could have a fine piano, and go to hear
all the concerts and operas. Then we could give money to poor people
instead of having people want to give it to us, and I could be very
accomplished, and go to parties sometimes."

"Yes," said Jack eagerly, "and some time we could all go to England, and
see the place where mother used to live."

Betty looked a little doubtful.

"I don't know whether mother would like that or not," she said. "You
see, when mother lived there she knew father, and now he's dead. It
might make her feel badly to go back."

"So it might; I never thought about that, but she might like to see