Peggy came upon her cousin standing on a chair, narrowly inspecting the articles of dress put away on the shelves of Mrs. Ramsay’s wardrobe, to which the prowler had found access by means of a key on the bunch which she carried with her ready for action. ‘Eh, Jenny, ye mauna meddle there, nor touch a preen in this room,’ cried Peggy, in the utmost dismay. ‘There’s naething o’ mine there, it’s a’ Mrs. Ramsay’s; this is her room.’ ‘Hoot, Peggy,’ said Jenny lightly, in no manner discomposed. ‘Div ye no ken yet a’ the rooms here are yours, and it is only by your will and pleasure that the auld flytin’ wife gets house-room now at Drumsheugh?’ Peggy was in greater distress than before. ‘But, Jenny, you’re sair mista’en; Mrs. Ramsay is Drumsheugh’s leddy-mither. She has the best title to be here, and she is nae randy. She has behaved as I could never have looked for her to behave, as no common woman would have acted. She neither flat nor grat, but took me in as her dochter without a word against it, though we had deceived her--Drumsheugh and me; and she has been gude to me, and patient wi’ me. Oh, Jenny, surely I never said a word to the contrary.’ ‘I daresay no,’ said Jenny carelessly; ‘she’s your gude-mither--you’re bund to keep her up ahint her back, whatever you may do to her face. But that need not hinder you from taking a look at her gear when you have the chance. It will be a’ yours in the end, for she has no other bairn save Jamie Ramsay, unless the body play you an ill trick, and put it past you in her wull, which is the mair reason that ye should mak’ yoursel’ acquent wi’ what there is for her to leave ahint her.’ ‘No, no, Jenny,’ protested Peggy, wringing her hands; ‘come down off that chair. I dinna want to ken what that press hauds so long as it is no mine but hers--Mrs. Ramsay’s, to do what she likes wi’.’ Jenny paid no heed to the prohibition. ‘Look, Peggy,’ she said, pulling out and throwing down a long, lace scarf, so that it fell over Peggy’s head and shoulders, ‘see how you’ll set that. I’m thinking you’ll wear that, or something like it, when you come out o’ your shell and gang wi’ your laird to grand parties.’ But Peggy was not to be betrayed through her vanity. She snatched off the scarf and began to fold it up quickly with trembling fingers. She knit her smooth brows into the semblance of a frown, and set down her foot with a desperate stamp, as an outraged worm will turn on a wanton aggressor. ‘Do you hear me speaking to you, Jenny? Put back Mrs. Ramsay’s things this minute? Let them alane, or I’ll ring for her maid Cunnings.’