I don't see what put the idee of work inter your head You got 'bout eight thousand dollars in the bank an'-- " "But I insist that the money is yours, daddy.

My fairy godmother paid it to you for keeping, clothing, and educating me.

It is not mine." "You talk like I was a boardin' school instead o' bein' your guardeen.
No, siree; it's your money, an' that ends it.

You git it when you're twenty-one." "We'll see, daddy," she replied, a stubborn light in her dark eyes.

"But I want to learn to do something worth while.