|Erchie sought me out on Saturday with a copy of that day’s ‘News’ containing a portrait of Carnegie’s little daughter Margaret. “Man, isn’t she the rale wee divert?” said he, glowing. “That like her faither, and sae weel-put-on! She minds me terrible o’ oor wee Teenie when she was jist her age.” “She has been born into an enviable state, Erchie,” I said. “Oh, I’m no’ sae shair aboot that,” said Erchie. “It’s a gey hard thing, whiles, bein’ a millionaire’s only wean. She canna hae mony wee lassies like hersel’ to play the peever wi’, or lift things oot o’ the stanks o’ Skibo Castle wi’ a bit o’ clye and a string. I’m shair it must be a hard job for the auld man, her paw, to provide diversions for the puir wee smout. And she’ll hae that mony things that she’ll no’ can say whit she wants next. I ken fine the wye it’ll be up yonder at Skibo. “It’ll be, ‘Paw, I’m wantin’ something.’ “‘Whit is’t, my dawtie, and ye’ll get it to break?’ Mr Carnegie’ll say, and lift her on his knee, and let her play wi’ the works o’ his twa thoosand pound repeater watch. “‘I dinna’ ken,’ says the wee lassie, ‘but I want it awfu’ fast.’ “‘Whit wad ye be sayin’ to an electric doll wi’ a phonograph inside it to mak’ it speak?’ asks Mr Carnegie. “‘I’m tired o’ dolls,’ says the wee yin, ‘and, besides, I wad raither dae the speakin’ mysel’.’ “‘Ye’re a rale wee woman there, Maggie,’ says her paw. “‘Weel, whit dae ye say to a wee totey motorcar a’ for your ain sel’, and jewelled in four-and-twenty holes?’ says he efter that, takin’ the hands o’ his watch frae her in case she micht swallow them. “‘Oh! a motor-car,’ says the wee lassie. ‘No, I’m no carin’ for ony mair motor-cars; ‘I canna get takin’ them to my bed wi’ me.’ “‘Ye’re weel aff there,’ says he. ‘I’ve had the hale o’ the Pittsburg works to my bed wi’ me,’ he says. ‘They were in my heid a’ the time when I couldna sleep, and they were on my chest a’ the time when I was sleepin’?’ “‘Whit wye that, paw?’ says the wee lassie. “‘I was feart something wad gae wrang, and I wad lose a’ the tred, and be puir again.’ “‘But I thocht ye wanted to die puir, paw?’ says the wee lassie. “‘Ay, but I never had ony notion o’ leevin’ puir,’ says Mr Carnegie as smert’s ye like, ‘and that mak’s a’ the difference. If ye’re, no’ for anither motor carriage, wad ye no’ tak’ a new watch?’ “‘No, paw,’ says the wee lassie, ‘I’m no’ for anither watch. The only thing a watch tells ye is when it’s time to gang to bed, and then I’m no wantin’ to gang onywye. Whit I wad like wad be ane o’ thae watches that has haunds that dinna move when ye’re haein’ awfu’ fine fun.’ “‘Oh, ay!’ says her paw at that; ‘that’s the kind we’re a’ wantin’, but they’re no’ makin’ them, and I’m no’ shair that I wad hae muckle use for yin nooadays eyen if they were. If ye’ll no’ hae a watch, will ye hae a yacht, or a brass band, or a fleein’-machine, or a piebald pony?’ “‘I wad raither mak’ mud-pies,’ says the wee innocent.