She has an edge to her tongue, but she is an incomparable friend.

The poor people go to her in flocks, and she scolds them roundly, but always knows how to help them in the only wise way.

Her people have been in Priorsford for ages; she knows every soul in the place, and is vastly amused at all the little snobberies that abound in a small town.

But she laughs kindly.
Pretentious people are afraid of her; simple people love her." "Am I simple, Jean ?" Jean laughed and refused to give an opinion on the subject, beyond quoting the words of Autolycus--"How blessed are we that are not simple men." They were in the Hopetoun Woods now, and at the end of the avenue could see the house standing on a knoll by the river, whitewashed, dignified, home-like.
"Talk to Mrs.Hope about the view," Jean advised "She is as proud of the Hopetoun Woods as if she had made them.

Isn't it a nice place?
Old and proud and honourable--like Mrs.Hope herself." "Are there sons to inherit ?" Jean shook her head.