's this Peter Reid--Jeannie Laidlaw's son--who has
enriched Jean. Well, Augusta, I must say I consider it rather a
liberty."

Augusta looked at her mother with an amused smile.

"Yes, Augusta, it was a pushing, interfering sort of thing to do. What
is the child to do with a great fortune? I'm not afraid of her being
spoiled. Money won't vulgarise Jean as it does so many people, but it
may turn her into a very burdened, anxious pilgrim. She is happier poor.
The pinch of too little money is a small thing compared to the burden of
too much. The doing without is good for both body and soul, but the
great possessions are apt to harden our hearts and make our souls small
and meagre. Who would have thought that little Jean would have had the
hard hap to become heir to them. But she has a high heart. She may make
a success of being a rich woman! She has certainly made a success of
being a poor one."

"I think," said Augusta, in her gentle voice, "that Peter Reid was a
wise man to leave his money to Jean. Only the people who have been poor
know how to give, and Jean has imagination and an understanding heart.
Haven't you noticed what a wonderful way she has with the poor people?
She is always welcome in the cottages.... And think what a delight she
will have in spending money on the boys! But I hope Pamela Reston will
do as she had planned and carry Jean off for a real holiday. I should
like to see her for a little while spend money like water, buy all
manner of useless lovely things, and dine and dance and go to plays."

Mrs. Hope put up her glasses to regard her daughter.

"Dear me, Augusta, am I hearing right? Who is more severe than you on
the mad women who dance, and sup, and frivol their money away? But
there's something in what you say. The bairn needs a playtime.... To
think that Jeannie Laidlaw's son should change the whole of Jean's life.
Preposterous!"

* * * * *

Mrs. Duff-Whalley was having tea with Mrs. Jowett when the news was
broken to her. It was a party, but only, as Mrs. Duff-Whalley herself
would have put it, "a purely local affair," meaning some people on the
Hill.

Mrs. Jowett sat in her soft-toned room, pouring out tea into fragile
cups with hands that seemed to demand lace ruffles, so white were they
and transparent. The room was like herself, exquisitely fresh and
dainty; white walls hung with pale water-colours in gilt frames, Indian
rugs of soft pinks and blues