CHAPTER XIX.
"O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I-- Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry, An' siller, that's sae braw to get, is brawer still to gie.
-- _It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me." R.L.S.
It is always easier for poor human nature to weep with those who weep than to rejoice with those who rejoice.

Into our congratulations to our more fortunate neighbour we often manage to squeeze something of the "hateful rind of resentment," forgetting that the cup of life is none too sweet for any of us, and needs nothing of our bitterness added.
Jean had not an enemy in the world, almost everyone wished her well, but in very few cases was there any marked enthusiasm about her inheritance.
"Ridiculous," was the most frequent comment: or "Fancy that little thing!" It seemed absurd that such an unimportant person should have had such a large thing happen to her.
Pamela was frankly disgusted with the turn things had taken.

She had intended giving Jean such a good time; she had meant to dress her and amuse her and settle her in life.

Peter Reid had destroyed all her plans, and Jean would never now be dependent on her for the pleasures of life.
She wrote to her brother: "Jean seems to be one of the people that all sorts of odd things happen to, and now fortune has played one of her impish tricks and Jean has become a very considerable heiress.

And I was there, oddly enough, when the god in the car alighted, so to speak, at The Rigs.
"One afternoon, just after I came to Priorsford, I went in after tea and found the Jardines entertaining a shabby-looking elderly man.