"Oh, for her, far better," assented Overholt. "They've got a beautiful
flat in Munich, and everything they can possibly think of. Your mother's
only complaint, so far as that goes, is that those girls are completely
spoilt by too much luxury!"

"What is luxury, exactly, father?" asked Newton, who always wanted to
know things.

"I shall never know myself, and perhaps you never will either!" The
wretched inventor tried to laugh. "But that's no answer to your
question, is it? I suppose luxury means always having twice as much of
everything as you can possibly use, and having it about ten times as
fine and expensive as other people can afford."

"I don't see any use in that," said the boy. "Now I know just how much
turkey and cranberry sauce and ice-cream I really need, and if I get
just a little more than that, it's Christmas. I don't mean much more,
but about half a helping. I know all about proverbs. Haven't I copied
millions of 'em in learning to write. One reason why it's so slow to
learn is that the things you have to write are perfect nonsense. 'Enough
is as good as a feast!' All I can say is, the man who made that proverb
never had a feast, or he'd have known better! This green paint doesn't
dry very quick, father. We'll have to wait till to-morrow before we put
in the red spots for the berries. I wish I had some little red beads.
They'd stick on the wet paint now, like one o'clock."

There were no red beads, so he rose to go to bed. When he had said
good-night and had reached the door, he stopped and looked back again.

"Say, father, haven't you anything you can sell to get some more money