Part 68

“Of course,” I answered, “money is necessary to life; that is, the means of life are necessary to life.”

“But one can earn those,” said they.

Marian said: “If I were as strong, capable and good as I would like, and just the sort of person I mean to be, it would be easy to earn money.”

Ruth said: “If one is loved and loves many people, one is sure to find some way of getting enough money to live. I don’t mean that people will thrust it on you, but you are sure to find the way to get whatever you need.”

I said: “Money is only, as it were, a certificate of power; for so much work, you are given the means to go on working and living. But the great problem is to make the work itself worth more to us than the payment. And I am afraid with most people it is not so. Money is a means for work, for life, for fulfilment. If things were properly adjusted, and society perfect, each man would work for his livelihood at the work which he loved most to do.”

Virginia said: “I would rather be a pauper than not be an artist.”

I answered: “I hope each one of you will find the means to do the work you love, and make it your livelihood. For that is the only way to justify both work and wage.”

Then I said: “Before we part and plan to meet again, I am going to tell you something very exciting. I am almost afraid to say it.”

“What is it? Tell us, quick.”

“Do you remember, I told you I was keeping minutes of the club?”

“Yes, that is why you wanted our papers.”

“Well, they are not ordinary minutes. They are an exact account of all we have done and said.” And then I told them of this book.

They were delighted. “We are all going to be put into a book,” they said.

“Yes,” I answered, “it will be a book, and you are all to be in it. But who knows whether any one else will care? Perhaps it will never be published.”

“Even if it isn’t published,” said Henry, “it will be a book.”

“What will it be called?” they asked.

“‘The Seekers,’ of course.”

“You ought to call it ‘The Pathfinder,’” said Henry. “That would sound more romantic and interesting, and attract people.”

Would I dedicate it to them? they asked.

“No, certainly not,” I said; “you are all helping me write it. We will dedicate it to all Seekers.”

What names would I use? they asked.

I would use their right first names, I said. Weren’t they willing?

Yes, yes, they were willing.

“For,” I said, “one could scarcely make up prettier names: I like them all, Marian, Ruth, Florence, Virginia, Henry and Alfred.”

“Yes,” answered Marian, “we like our own names.”

“And you have really helped me to write it,” I said, “for I have all your papers. That’s why I wanted them, to prove that I was not inventing the whole thing.”

“Are you putting them in just as we wrote them?” asked Marian.

“Yes, exactly.”