"Of course. And they have been poor but they were honest," she added
deeply.

Which Felice repeated gravely to Grandy in the garden and added
eagerly, "Were our ancestors poor but honest?"

He smiled grimly.

"I shouldn't say," he answered her curtly, "that they were either
conspicuously poor or conspicuously honest."

The Wheezy not only remodeled ancient dresses into stiff pinafores for
Felice but she had to make the cushions that fitted in the dog
hampers, down-stuffed oval affairs covered with heavy dull blue silk.
The Wheezy sputtered that she couldn't see why "under the shining
heavens, dogs should sleep on things traipsed out like comp'ny bedroom
pin-cushions with letters tied onto their collars--"

Which so puzzled Felice that on one of those furtive occasions when
she managed a few words with Zeb she demanded an answer. Zeb slapped
his sides and chuckled.

"Because, Missy, putting on the frills and writing out the pedigree in
French like he does makes folks pay jes' about twict as much for those
dogs--"

Which was very bewildering, for Felice had not the remotest idea in
this world what to pay for anything meant. How could she?

There was one very vivid recollection of Octavia. The recollection of