"
"Oh, but you never can need all those cattle, and the vast farm, or the
wheat and other products he ships and they bring in money," persisted
the daughter of a banker.
"He sends it off 'cause we can't let it spoil, you know," replied the
thrifty rancher's daughter. "But I don't know how much money he may be
worth. Maybe a hundred thousand dollars for the land, and maybe another
hundred thousand in cattle. I've heard John and Father talk over an
offer of half a million dollars for part interest in the Rainbow
Cliffs, but Dad wouldn't spoil 'em."
"What! What did you say he refused?" shrilled Eleanor.
Polly turned suddenly to look at her companion. She was surprised at
the expression on Eleanor's face.
"I never lie. Why should I?" she cried in defense.
"No, but you must have been joking!"
"I wasn't! Why should I joke?" retorted Polly.
"But goodness me, girl! If your father was as rich as all that, why
would you care about wasting a doughnut? And look at your mother making
her own butter and helping in housework! Anne says she even spins her
own linen towels and knits your stockings. What under the sun would she
work like that for, if she could afford to live better'n we do?" cried
Eleanor, incredulously.
"My mother doesn't _have_ to do a thing, unless she wants to. She
just likes to do it for us, and it sure does make a home!" declared
Polly, fondly, as she looked across the Pit to her home.
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