"Oh, well," said Jean, "of course they would come _first_, but, oh, I
would do such a lot of things! I'd find out where money was most needed
and drop it on the people anonymously so that they wouldn't be bothered
about thanking anyone. I would creep about like a beneficent Puck and
take worried frowns away, and straighten out things for tired people,
and, above all, I'd make children smile. There's no fun or satisfaction
got from giving big sums to hospitals and things--that's all right for
when you're dead. I want to make happiness while I'm alive. I don't
think a million pounds would be too much for all I want to do."

"Aw, Jean," said Mhor, "if you had a million pounds would you buy me a
bicycle?"

"A bicycle," said Jean, "and a motor and an aeroplane and a Shetland
pony and a Newfoundland pup. I'll make a story for you in bed to-night
all about what you would have if I were rich."

"And Jock, too?"

Being assured that Jock would not be overlooked Mhor grabbed Peter round
the neck and proceeded to babble to him about bicycles and aeroplanes,
motors and Newfoundland pups.

Jean looked apologetically at her guests.

"When you're poor you've got to dream," she said. "Oh, must you go, Mr.
Reid? But you'll come back to-morrow, won't you? We would honestly like
you to come and stay with us."

"Thank you," said Peter Reid, "but I am going back to London in a day or