Harold is the most unselfish boy I ever knew; and I never saw him give way, or heard him complain that his lot was hard but once, and that was this summer, when he was building the room, and had to dismiss the man because he had no money to pay him.
That left it all for him to do, and he was already so tired and overworked; and then Tom Tracy was always making fun of the addition, and saying it made the cottage look like a pig-sty with a steeple to it, and that you would think so too; and if it were his he'd tear the old hut down and start anew.

Peterkin, too, made remarks about its being out of proportion to the rest of the house, and wondered where Harold got the money, and why he didn't do this and that, but supposed he couldn't afford it, adding that "beggars couldn't be choosers." When Harold heard all that, he was tired, and nervous, and sick, and discouraged, and his hands were blistered and bruised with hard work.
His head was aching, and he just put it on that table, where you are sitting, and cried like a baby.

When I tried to comfort him, he said, "It isn't the hard work, grandmother; I don't mind that in the least; neither do I care for what they say, or should not, if there was not some truth in it; things are out of proportion, and the new room makes the rest of the cottage look lower than ever, and I'd like so much to have everything right for Jerrie, who would not shame the Queen's palace.

I wish, for her sake, that I had money, and could make her home what it ought to be.

I do not want her to feel homesick, or long for something better, when she comes back to us."' Jerrie was crying outright now; but Mrs.Crawford, who was a little deaf and did not hear her, went on: 'If you were a hundred times his sister he could not love you more than he does, or wish to make you happier.