CHAPTER IV

h,ifIcouldonlyhaveahouseofmyown—eversopoor,sotiny—butmyown!Butthen,”sheaddedbitterly,“thereisnouseinyowlingforthemoonwhenyoucan’tevengetatallowcandle.” IndreamlandnothingwoulddoValancybutacastleofpalesapphire.Inreallifeshewouldhavebeenfullysatisfiedwithalittlehouseofherown.SheenviedJennieLloydmorefiercelythanevertoday.Jenniewasnotsomuchbetterlookingthanshewas,andnotsoverymuchyounger.Yetshewastohavethisdelightfulhouse.AndthenicestlittleWedgwoodteacups—Valancyhadseenthemanopenfireplace,andmonogrammedlinenhemstitchedtablecloths,andchina-closets.Whydideverythingcometosomegirlsandnothingtoothers?Itwasn’tfair. Valancywasoncemoreseethingwithrebellionasshewalkedalong,aprim,dowdylittlefigureinhershabbyraincoatandthree-year-oldhat,splashedoccasionallybythemudofapassingmotorwithitsinsultingshrieks.Motorswerestillratheranoveltyin