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"But you work so very, very hard, and earn so little and that

little--"

"I work that I may live, Charmian, and lo! I am alive"

"And dreadfully poor!"

"And ridiculously happy"

"I wonder why?" said she, beginning to draw designs on the page

before her

"Indeed, though I have asked myself that question frequently

of late, I have as yet found no answer, unless it be my busy,

care-free life, with the warm sun about me and the voice of the

wind in the trees"

"Yes, perhaps that is it"

"And yet I don't know," I went on thoughtfully, "for now I come

to think of it, my life has always been busy and care-free, and I

have always loved the sun and the sound of wind in trees--yet,

like Horace, have asked 'What is Happiness?' and looked for it in

vain; and now, here--in this out-of-the-world spot, working as a

village sht--which

is very strange!"

"Yes, Peter," said Charmian, still busy with her pen

"Upon consideration I thinkme penniless"

"Do you mean that he disinherited you?"

"In a way, yes; he left me his whole fortune provided that I

married a certain lady within the year"