"How I hate being poor!" exclaimed Helen Carter, looking ruefully at her darned glove. "Me, too!" echoed the younger sister, Lucy. "Shh! Father will hear you," admonished Douglas. "Nobody can hear above the rattle of this horrid old day coach," declared Helen. "There is something about the odor of a common coach that has spent its life hauling commuters from home to work-from work to home, that sickens me," and Helen's sensitive nostrils quivered in disgust. "I'm sorry, dear; I know it is all so hard on you," said Douglas. "Not a bit harder on me than it is on you."