"I dare say we 'll all get some money out of that old ledge yet. New minerals are all the time being discovered."
"Money!" said Jim, contemptuously. "I believe if a feather should drop off an angel's wing you 'd pick it up and wonder what it would sell for."
"Yes, I would," said I, very composedly; "not wearing angels' wings myself, and having no kind of use for that kind of feather! I 'd sell it as a curiosity and buy a pair of cassimere trousers; and so would you, old fellow, if you had n't any more money than I have."
"Oh, forgive me, Will, dear Will, I did n't mean to be rough on you!" exclaimed Jim, with his whole face grieved at his own thoughtlessness. "But you know I do hate money-making, and money-talking, and money-worshiping. If I had n't had money to begin with, I 'd never have made a cent more than just enough to get bread with."
"I don't believe you 'd have made that, old boy," laughed I. "You would have sat on the sunny side of the almshouse, perfectly rapt in content, watching angels in the clouds, and treasuring up their feathers if they happened to drop any! And then you could n't have adopted Ally."
"No," said Jim, thoughtfully. "After she came, I think I 'd have carried the angels' feathers to market, and made as sharp a bargain for them as you yourself, Will."
