“The more I think on it, John Corrie, the more I see what a fool ye’ve been. To take fifty pound for a thing that’s come worth twenty thousand—that’ll maybe yet be worth thirty, forty, ay fifty thousand—”
“Hold your tongue, woman!” Kitty scarcely recognized her uncle’s voice. “How could I, or anybody, ha’ foreseen that the shares would go up? Five year ago the broker in Glasgow told us they were rubbish. Six months ago ye agreed I had done well to get fifty pound for them from Symington—”
“Oh, he knew what he was doing—he knew, though you didn’t!”
“I don’t believe he did. He’s been daft about gold mines for years. He’d ha’ been ruined by now if his father hadna died and left him White Farm. I tell ye, Rachel, he bought the five thousand shares off me with his eyes shut, just for a speculation. Don’t talk! Ye know well ye were as sick-tired as I was o’ seeing the certificates lying in the safe, wi’ never a ha’penny o’ interest to—”
“No, no, John, we’ve been cheated—don’t care what ye say—and it’s maybe a judgment on us—”
“That’s enough! Ye mun make the best o’ a bad job. And it’ll maybe no be so bad in the end.” Corrie let out a laugh. “Ye’ll no complain if we get half o’ whatever he gets for the shares, when he sells them.”
“Oh, dinna begin on that again. He’ll never pay up.”
“Ay, he’ll pay up. I’ve got his bond in my pocket!”
“Ye didna tell me! How did ye manage it?”
Corrie replied, but he had lowered his voice and only a murmur reached Kitty’s ears. She was not interested in her uncle’s affairs generally, but it was something new to hear of his having been “done,” for “done” was the word that came into her mind the moment she understood Symington’s part in the business. Eavesdropping, however, was not one of her weaknesses, and she rose with the intention of making known her presence in the house.