She could go to England to-day and be worshiped by earls, and get a comet's attention from the million, if she cared for such things.

She would have gone in the early scrabbling days for much less than an earl, and been vain of it, and glad to show off before the remains of the Scotch kin.

But those things are very small to her now--next to invisible, observed through the cloud-rack from the dizzy summit where she perches in these great days.
She does not want that church property for herself.

It is worth but a quarter of a million--a sum she could call in from her far-spread flocks to-morrow with a lift of her hand.

Not a squeeze of it, just a lift.