"And I think, Sarah," said honest Jo, "that you're too hard on Miranda. It's all very fine, but it seems to me that she _had_ enough, and more than enough, to make her uneasy. What with disagreeable things being dinned into her ears from morning to night, and facts that couldn't be denied, interpreted all wrong, and no friend near to interpret 'em right, and her own modesty and humble-mindedness making her suspect that the young man had offered to her before he was sure of his own mind, and had begun to repent--take it altogether, I consider it's unkind and unfair to bully her as you do, Sarah, and so I tell you." "You do, do you?" answered Mrs. Dobbs, who had listened with much composure to this attack. "Well, I'm not likely to quarrel with you for _that_. But you needn't worry yourself about May. I think I understand the case pretty well. If you doubt it, just try sympathizing with her, and telling her you think Mr. Rivers behaved bad and thoughtless. You'll see how pleased she'll be with you, and what a lot of gratitude you'll get for taking her part. Try it, Jo." Mr. Weatherhead, on reflection, did not try it. The unexpected legacy from Lucius Cheffington to his cousin was hailed by Mrs. Dobbs with heartfelt thankfulness. May's account of it at first was a very vague one. She had only imperfectly heard Mr. Bragg's communication in the railway carriage. And, indeed, at that moment, it had seemed to her an affair of very secondary importance. But now, when it occurred to her that this money would render them so independent as to put it out of the question for Owen to have to seek his fortune in South America, or any other distant part of the world, she was as elated by it as the best regulated mind could desire. "And it isn't so _very_ much money, after all, is it, Granny?" she said, with an air of satisfaction, which Mrs. Dobbs did not quite understand. "Well," she answered, "it seems a pretty good deal of money to me. Between four and five hundred a year, as I understand." "Yes; but it isn't a _fortune_. Mr. Bragg said it wasn't a fortune. I mean--it is very little more than Owen has with what he earns, Granny." "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Dobbs, a light beginning to dawn upon her. "I see. Well, you can't have the proud satisfaction of marrying him without a penny belonging to you. But perhaps he might take a situation for five years on the Guinea Coast, so as to bring his income up above yours." "Oh, Granny!" "Why not? It would be quite as natural and sensible as his wanting to marry poor Mrs. Bransby and her five children. Things are getting too comfortable to be let alone. The least he can do is to undergo a course of yellow fever, and----" "Granny, how can you?" And the young arms were round Granny, and the blushing face hidden in Granny's breast.