Grannie laughed, and said—"Think of Mrs. Scott now, Phœbe. Would she?" "O no," I said. "But then Mrs. Scott always does dress so quiet." "Well, think of Lady Wheatstone. You've seen her pass, many a time. Would she?" "No," I said. "But then it isn't her way to put on such smart things. I suppose she doesn't like them." "That's just it," says grannie. "She don't like them, and Mrs. Scott don't like them, and if Mrs. Johnstone was a true lady she wouldn't like them either. I don't say but what she may be a nice enough person in other ways, if she does make mistakes in her dress. But they are mistakes, Phœbe. That red velvet, with all the smart trimmings and the yellow feather atop, would do well enough, maybe, if she was going to a Queen's drawing-room, or a Parliament opening, or something of that sort, but they are not fit for driving about in a little place like this. It's just as out of place for her, as if I was to go trudging about in the mud with a green silk dress on." Mother had been talking about buying a green silk dress for herself that very morning. But grannie had not heard her; if she had, she would have taken right good care not to say words which should seem like blaming a mother to her child—and I would not tell grannie. Another day our clergyman, Mr. Scott, came. He was an elderly man, with silver hair, and a thoughtful way of speaking, and bright eyes which seemed to look one through. Father was at home when he called. Mother slipped away into the back garden, when she saw him in the distance, for somehow mother never much cared for Mr. Scott. But grannie did love him, and look up to him. She made him sit down in the best chair, and looked as pleased as possible to have him there. Of course the five thousand pounds were soon spoken of. Mr. Scott told father first how glad he was to hear the news, and how nice it was for us all. He said it in such a kind way, that father was quite pleased. And then Mr. Scott asked father what were his plans. "Well, I don't just exactly know," father said. "I'm meaning to take a bit of a holiday for one thing, and I did think it would be nice to have a bigger cottage than this: but mother says she'll stick by the old place, and I'm loth to part from her; so we'll wait a while. I've a mind to get some tidy furniture, though, and my wife has a great notion of a silk dress. And we'll have a trip to the sea some fine day." Mr. Scott listened to all this, and smiled, and didn't seem to think of blaming anybody or anything. I thought grannie was a little disappointed. But presently, somehow, he was talking quietly to father about investing the money, and asking him what he meant to do. For of course five thousand pounds could not be left to lie about, he said, and it was a large sum to put into a county bank. Suppose the bank should fail. Such things did happen.