"
Mrs. Wicket stood gazing at the ground, twisting her apron with her
hands. On her face was a look of pity for Mr. Jeminy, because she had
heard that he was not to teach school any longer. "It will be a hard
blow to him," she thought.
"Few," continued Mr. Jeminy, "go very long without their share of
sorrow. And sorrow is not a light thing to bear, Mrs. Wicket.
Poverty, also, falls to the lot of most of us; and it is not easy to be
poor. Yet to be poor, to be sad, and to be brave, is indeed the best
of life. He who wants little for himself, is a happy man. If he is
wise, he will pity those who have more than they need. He will not
envy them; he will see the trouble they are making for themselves.
There is no end of pity in this world, Mrs. Wicket; like love, it makes
rich men of us all."
Mrs. Wicket nodded her head. "Yes," she said, "it's a blessing to feel
pity. It makes you strong, like. The humble heart is a power of
strength."
And she went back to Juliet, who had begun to cough again. Left to
himself, Mr.
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