"My man of business," said Peggy, with a little pride. "I have not heard from him for a long time."
"He is very sorry indeed, that you let the tenant have a right of purchase to your shop."
"Oh, it is not of much consequence—he never was a saving body; I don't think he will ever raise the 250 pounds."
"Will he not?—when the place is worth 2,500 pounds now; if he borrows the money, he will carry out the purchase, and thus you lose the chance of making a little fortune. He, of course, will keep it on till the end of the lease, at the low rent he has it at, and then take it up for the price specified. You cannot think how vexed I felt to hear you had let this property slip through your fingers."
"It is a pity," said Peggy. "It would really have been a providing for the bairns; but they must just provide for themselves. I am, at least, putting them in the way of doing it. The rent comes in regular enough, and is a help; and the 250 pounds will come in some time, and set us up in some way of doing."
"250 pounds is not the sum it used to be," said Mr. Brandon; "but, in your hands, I have no doubt it will be turned to good account."
"Here come the bairns now," said Peggy, as the quick, noisy steps of the heavily-shod children were heard clattering up the stairs.
"I will now see what you have made so many sacrifices for. Name them as they come in."
"Tom, Jamie, Nancy, Jessie, Willie."
"A fine lot of youngsters, upon my word, and sure to make good colonists." And, as he said this, Mr. Brandon saw a tear stand in the eye of the devoted aunt at his praises of her orphan charge.