ll it is."

"I try to do that," confessed Peter, "but what with Ellen's back being
bad, and the interest on the mortgage, it's not so easy."

"Is there a mortgage? I am sorry for that, for the next thing I was
going to say is that he must never go into debt, never on any account."

"My father was sick; it was an accident," Peter protested loyally.

"So! I think I remember. Well, it is unfortunate, but where there is a
debt the only thing is to reduce it as steadily as possible, and if this
mortgage teaches you the trick of saving it may not be such a bad thing
for you. But when a man works and saves for a long time without getting
any sensible benefit, he sometimes thinks that saving and working are
not worth while. You must never make that mistake."

"Oh, no," said Peter. It seemed to him that they were getting on very
well indeed.

"There is another thing I should like to say," Mr. Dassonville went on,
"but I am not sure I can put it plainly. It is that you must not try to
be too wise." He smiled a little to Peter's blankness. "I believe in
Harmony it is called looking on all sides of a thing, but there is
always one side of everything like the moon which is turned from us. You
must just start from where you are and keep moving."

"I see," said Peter, looking thoughtfully into the fire, in imitation of
Mr. Dassonville. And there being no more advice forthcoming he began to
wonder if he ought to sit a while from politeness, as people did in
Bloombury, or go at once. Mrs. Dassonville got up and came behind her
husband's chair.

"Don't you think you ought to tell him, David, that there are other
things worth having besides money; better worth?"

"You, perhaps." Mr. Dassonville took the hand of his wife laid on his
shoulder and held it against his cheek; it brought out for Peter
suddenly, how many years younger she was, and what he had heard of Mr.
Dassonville having married her from among the summer folk who came to
Harmony for the pine woods and the sea air. "Ah, but I'm not sure I'd
have you without a great deal of it. It takes money to raise rare plants
like you. But I ought to say," still holding his wife's hand to his
cheek and watching Peter across it, "that I think it is a very good sign
that you are willing to ask. The most of poor men will sit about and
rail and envy the rich, but hardly one would think to ask how it is
done, or believe if he were told. They've a notion it's all gouging and
luck, and y