When she spoke, her voice was shrill with anger in spite of her efforts to control it.

“It can’t be true.  The Jardines have no relations that could leave them money.”

“This isn’t a relation,” Mrs. Jowett explained.  “It’s someone Jean was kind to quite by chance.  I think it is so sweet.  It quite makes one want to cry. Dear Jean!”

Mrs. Duff-Whalley looked at the sentimental woman before her with bitter scorn.

“It would take more than that to make me cry,” she snorted.  “I wonder what fool wanted to leave Jean money.  Such an unpractical creature!  She’ll simply make ducks and drakes of it, give it away to all and sundry, pauperise the whole neighbourhood.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Miss Duncan broke in.  “She has had a hard training, poor child.  Such a pathetic mite she was when her great-aunt died and left her with David and Jock and the little Gervase Taunton!  No one thought she could manage, but she did, and she has been so plucky, she deserves all the good fortune that life can bring her.  I’m longing to hear what Jock says about this.  I do like that boy.”

“They are, all three, dear boys,” said Mrs. Jowett.  “Tim and I quite feel as if they were our own.  Tim, dear,” to that gentleman, who had bounced suddenly and violently into the room, “we are talking about the great news—­Jean’s fortune—­”

“Ah yes, yes,” said Mr. Jowett, distributing brusque nods to the women present.  “What I want is a bit of thick string.” (His wife’s delicate drawing-room hardly seemed the place to look for such a thing.) “No, no tea, my dear.  I told you I wanted a bit of thick string....  Yes, let’s hope it won’t spoil Jean, but I think it’s almost sure to.  Fortune hunters, too.  Bad thing for a girl to have money....  Yes, yes, I asked the servants and Chart brought me the string basket, but it was all thin stuff.  I’ll lose the post, but it’s always the way.  Every day more rushed than another.  Remind me, Janetta, to get some thick string to-morrow.  I’ve no time to go down to the town to-day.  Why, bless me, my morning letters are hardly looked at yet,” and he fussed himself out of the room.

Mrs. Duff-Whalley rose to go.

“Then, Mrs. Jowett, I can depend on you to look after that collecting?  And please be firm.  I find that collectors are apt to be very lazy and unconscientious.  Indeed, one told me frankly that in her district she only went to the people she knew.  That isn’t the way to collect.  The only way is to get into each house—­to stand on the doorstep is no use, they can so easily send a maid to refuse—­and sit there till they give a subscription.  Every year since I took it on there has been an increase, and I’ll be frightfully disappointed if you let it go back.”

Mrs. Jowett looked depressed.  She knew herself to be one of the worst collectors on record.  She was guiltily aware that she often advised people not to give; that is, if she thought their circumstances straitened!