"'Who
loses his life,' you know. Most boys and girls start off into life like
kites in a high wind without tails. There's a glorious dipping and
plunging and sailing for a little while, and then down they come in a
tangle of string and paper and broken wood. I had a tail to start with,
some humiliating deficiency to keep me balanced. No football and tennis
for me, no flirting and dancing and private theatricals. When Bab and
Ned were in one whirl of good times, I was working out chess problems to
make myself forget my hip, and reading Carlyle and Thoreau and Emerson.
Nobody is born content, Ju, and nobody has it thrust upon him; just a
few achieve it. I worked over the secret of happiness as if it was the
multiplication table. Happiness is the best thing in the world. It's
only a habit, and I've got it."
"_Is_ happiness the best thing in the world, Rich?" Julia asked wistfully.
"I think it is; real happiness, which doesn't necessarily mean a box at
the Metropolitan and a touring car," Richie said, smiling. "It seems to
me, to have a little house up here on the mountain, and to have people
here like me, and let me take care of them--"
"For nothing?" interposed Julia.
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