"Oh, the rich people can't!" said the Baroness.

"Are you very sure they are rich?" asked Felix, lightly.

His sister slowly turned in her place, looking at him. "Heavenly
powers!" she murmured. "You have a way of bringing out things!"

"It will certainly be much pleasanter if they are rich," Felix declared.

"Do you suppose if I had not known they were rich I would ever have
come?"

The young man met his sister's somewhat peremptory eye with his bright,
contented glance. "Yes, it certainly will be pleasanter," he repeated.

"That is all I expect of them," said the Baroness. "I don't count upon
their being clever or friendly--at first--or elegant or interesting. But
I assure you I insist upon their being rich."

Felix leaned his head upon the back of the sofa and looked awhile at the
oblong patch of sky to which the window served as frame. The snow was
ceasing; it seemed to him that the sky had begun to brighten. "I count
upon their being rich," he said at last, "and powerful, and clever, and
friendly, and elegant, and interesting, and generally delightful! Tu vas
voir." And he bent forward and kissed his sister. "Look there!" he went
on. "As a portent, even while I speak, the sky is turning the color of
gold; the day is going to be splendid."

And indeed, within five minutes the weather had changed. The sun broke