"Jeanne? She's having lunch with Bessie. It's Bessie's birthday."
"Good! And Roger?"
"Gone to Ishpeming for the ball game."
"Good again! I have something to tell you. A very good-looking young lawyer from Pennsylvania was directed to my office this morning in his search for the missing heir to a very respectable fortune."
"What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Fairchild. "Whose heir? Whose fortune?"
"Jeanne's grandfather died nearly two weeks ago," returned Mr. Fairchild. "Although he is known to have made a will, many years ago, leaving all his money to his son Charles, no such will has been found among his effects. He kept it in his own possession. Unless it turns up—and you can believe me, the Huntingtons have made a pretty thorough search—his very considerable estate will be equally divided between his son Charles and Jeanne—our Jeanne. It is practically certain that the will no longer exists."
"I do hope it doesn't, since Mrs. Huntington was so horrid to Jeanne."
"So do I. You must tell Jeanne about her grandfather, I suppose; but it will be wiser not to mention the money until we are sure. I'm certainly glad we adopted her before this happened. I'd never have consented to adopt an heiress."
"Nor I," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I think I'd almost rather have her poor—it's such fun to give her things."
"Well, she may be, if that will turns up. Be sure you don't tell her."