le lot of fun buying things
and planting dollars, but I'm beginning to see an end to that kind of
business. After you've got your house filled up with furniture and
jimcracks, what you going to do then?"

"Burn 'em."

"And begin all over again? You can't buy out the town. It's a real
circus for a while, but I can see there's a limit to it. Once you find
out you can just go down here to one of these jewelry-stores and order
anything you want--you don't want anything. Here I am with a lot of
money that ain't mine, having a gay whirl spending it, but I can see my
finish right now. To go on in this line would take all the fun out of
life. What am I to do?"

Moss took a seat and looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't know. I used
to think if I had money I'd start out and 'do good to people,' but I'm
not at all sure that charity isn't all a damned impertinence. A couple
of years ago I would have said go in for 'Neighborhood Settlements,'
free libraries, 'Noonday Rests,' 'Open-air Funds,' and all the rest of
it, but now I ask, 'Why?' We've had our wave of altruism, and I'm
inclined to think a wave of selfishness would do us all good--but you're
too young to be bothered with these problems. Go home and be happy while
you can. Enjoy your gold while it glitters. Work is my only fun--real,
enduring fun--and I'm not a bit sure _that_ will last. Whatever you do,
be yourself. Don't try to be what you think I or some one else would
like to have you. I like you because you are so straight-forwardly
yourself; I shall be heart-broken if you take on the disease of the age
and begin to prate of your duty."

She listened to him with only partial comprehension of his meaning, but
she answered: "I was brought up to think duty was the whole works."

"Yes, and your teacher meant duty to God, duty to others. Well, there's
duty to one's self. The war of money and duty is the biggest mix of our
day. It's simpler to be poor; then all you've got to worry about is
bread and shoes and shingles."

"That's just it. Sometimes I wish I was back in the Golden Eagle, where
I--" she ended in mid-sentence.

He laughed. "You sound like a middle-aged financier who mourns (tattooed
with dollar-marks) for the days when he used to husk corn at seventy
cents a day." She saw the humor of this, but was aware that without a
knowledge of Ben Fordyce Joe could not understand her problem, therefore
she abandoned her search for light and leading. "Well, anyhow, righ