And it had happened just as he had pictured it--lucky David! The room had looked as he had known it would look, with a fire that sparkled as only Jean's fire ever sparkled, and Jean's eyes--Jean's "doggy" eyes, as Mhor called them--were lit with interest; and Jock and Mhor and Peter crept in after a little and lay on the rug and gazed up at him, a quiet and most satisfactory audience.
Jean felt a little in awe of this younger brother of hers, who had suddenly grown a man and spoke with an air of authority.

She had an ache at her heart for the Davie who had been a little boy and content to lean; she seemed hardly to know this new David.

But it was only for a little.

When Jock and Mhor had gone to bed, the brother and sister sat over the fire talking, and David forgot all his new importance and ceased to "buck," and told Jean all his little devices to save money, and how he had managed just to scrape along.
"If only everyone else were poor as well," said Jean, "then it wouldn't matter." "That's just it; but it's so difficult doing things with men who have loads of money.

It never seems to occur to them that other people haven't got it.