we did not find it, but we were found by a good, kind Indian uncle,
who helped Father with his business, so that Father was able to
take us all to live in a jolly big red house on Blackheath, instead
of in the Lewisham Road, where we lived when we were only poor but
honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poor but honest we always
used to think that if only Father had plenty of business, and we
did not have to go short of pocket money and wear shabby clothes (I
don't mind this myself, but the girls do), we should be happy and
very, very good.

And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house we
thought now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries
and pineries, and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and
replete with every modern convenience, like it says in Dyer &
Hilton's list of Eligible House Property. I read all about it, and
I have copied the words quite right.

It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no
casters off the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the
silver not dented; and lots of servants, and the most decent meals
every day--and lots of pocket-money.

But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the
things you want most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them
frightfully; but when I had mine a week or two, after the
mainspring got broken and was repaired at Bennett's in the village,
I hardly cared to look at the works at all, and it did not make me
feel happy in my heart any more, though, of course, I should have
been very unhappy if it had been taken away from me. And the same
with new clothes and nice dinners and having enough of everything.