'm
afraid the poor child will get many bad falls. So long as she remains in
Priorsford with people like Mrs. Hope and the Macdonalds to watch over
her she can't come to any harm. Don't be anxious. Honestly, Biddy, I
think she cares for you. I'm glad you asked her when she was poor."

* * * * *

When the news of Jean's fortune broke over Priorsford, tea-parties had
no lack of material for conversation.

Miss Watson and Miss Teenie, much more excited than Jean herself, ranged
gaily round the circle of their acquaintances, drank innumerable cups of
tea, and discussed the matter in all its bearings.

"Isn't it strange to think of Miss Jean as an heiress? Such a plain
little thing--in her clothes, I mean, for she has a bit sweet wee face.
I don't know how she'll ever do in a great big house with butlers and
things. I expect she'll leave The Rigs now. It's no place for an
heiress. Perhaps she'll build a house like The Towers. No; you're right:
she'll look for an old house; she always had such queer ideas about
liking old things and plain things.... Well, when she had a wee house it
had a wide door. I hope when she gets a big house it won't have a
narrow door. Money sometimes changes people's very natures.... It's a
funny business; you never really know what'll happen to you in this
world. Anyway, I don't grudge it to Miss Jean, though, mind you, I don't
think myself that she'll carry off money well. She hasn't presence
enough, if you know what I mean. She'll never look the thing in a big
motor, and you can't imagine her being haughty to people poorer than
herself. She has such a way of putting herself beside folk--even a
tinker-body on the road!"

Miss Bathgate heard the news with sardonic laughter.

"So that's the latest! Miss Jean's gaun to be upsides wi' the best o'
them! Puir lamb, puir lamb! I hope the siller 'll bring her happiness,
but I doot it ... I yince kent some folk that got a fortune left them.
He was a beadle in the U.F. Kirk at Kirkcaple, a dacent man wi' a wife
and dochter, an' by some queer chance they came into a heap o' siller,
an' a hoose--a mansion hoose, ye ken. They never did mair guid, puir
bodies. The hoose was that big that the only kinda cosy place they could
see to sit in was the butler's pantry, an' they took to drink, fair for
want o' anything else to dae. I've heard tell that they took whisky to
their porridges, but that's mebbe a lee. Onyway, the faither an