The Story of Jessie

ments were made, and it was settled that Jessie was to go to Miss Barley's pretty house by the green every mo

e each one led. If you stood close to the signpost and faced the station, the road exactly behind you led down to Springbrook green and village, while the one on your right led along a wide flat road to "The Grange," and on, past that, through villag

Jessie and her grandfather were to meet every day and walk home together. Yet not every d

ings to do in the house and to go to Norton by train to do her shopping, and Jessie had to help her grandmother clean up the cottage an

and rather frightened, and she longed to be back at home again with her granny and grandfather. In fact, she was just edging towards the gate, with her mind almost made up to run home, when the

e flowers, and you will be able to help me. Come in, dear-no, we will not g

ed along happily enough at Miss Grace's side, soon forgetting all her shyness in helping her to pick out the handsomest

, as she stepped through the open window; "d

e flowers, the pictures, and all the pretty things. "I

e least little bit sorry to go away from it. But first of all I want you to help me arrange these flowers a little, a

's granddaughter should know all these things. That lovely spray of little pink roses you are holding is called 'D

ted Jessie. "I think Miss Perkins i

You are a very polite

is called 'Homer,' bu

but just pl

called 'pretty Homer,'

nd their names. Miss Grace made everything so attractive, and it was wonderful what a lot of interesting thin

thway, but Miss Grace did, and stooped and picked the poor thing up, and carrying

e cried; "it could not if it wanted to, and I am sure it does not want to. It will help to take care of my flowers for me. You are not afraid to stroke it,

reluctantly, and the coldness of it made her jump so at first, that she thought she could never, never touch it again; but she tried not to be

s Grace took down a book and read to Jessie, and Jessie, who already knew her letters and some of the easiest words, read a little to Miss Grace, and before

the road towards her. In his hand he held a big bunch of white roses and beautiful

overgrown the other things so much that I had to cut them

are the seven sisters called, granp? What is t

nt. "What are they called! Why, Rose, of course; bu

ven all called 'Rose,

y must have a name e

,' another 'Pink Rosi

nd 'Rosamund '

Rosie, Dog Rosie, and Cider Ros

t such a lot of things to-day," she said impressively. "There's one rose called 'Mr. Richardson,' another called 'Miss Perkins,' and another called 'Plain Homer,' and now there's 'Seven Sisters,' all with different names." Then she to

o warm and comfortable. But don't you go overworking yourself, little maid." Jessie laughed

e, I am very strong, and I

ver I should do without Jessie," granny would often remark to grandfather a

and, as time went by, and Jessie grew taller and stronger and more and more capable,

every nice new thing she had she wanted her to share, and every flower she had she wanted to save for her. But she saved them so often, and then had to throw them away dead, that at last she ceased to do so; and by and by, as the months passed, she grew accustomed to enjoying things withou

ned face, she said to her grandmother, "Granny, if father comes for me you won't l

I can tell you, and he wouldn't dare to come here and show himself to

either of her parents, her fears lessened, though she could never think of her

Jessie was about eight years old when the

uring against her window. She had heard her grandfather go down and open the front door as usual, and light the fire in the kitchen; then she heard him fill the kettle at the pump and put it on to boil. After that he went out aga

, and that there was no smell of breakfast cooking. Usually at this time her grandfather was busy in the scullery cleaning boots and knives, or doing some job or other, while her grandmother bustled back and forth, talking loudly, that her voice might reach above the

in his usual seat at the end of the table, holding a letter in his hand, while her grandmother stood beside him, her hand leaning heavily on his shoulder; and both their faces looked white and drawn, and full of

is it?" she cried. "Who has hurt him?" she cried, turning to her grandmother almost fiercely. "Wh

Jessie's, and crept caressingly round the little girl's neck, whi

and never knowing how much we loved and forgave her, and how we've hungered night and day for a sight of her-and now I shall never, never see he

ad? Granp, mother isn't really dead, is she? Won't I-won't I never see her any more," the truth gradually forcing itself on her mind-"won't she ever come and live

sighed heavily. "But maybe," he added a moment later, speaking slowly and with difficu

e was?" wailed Patience despairingly. "I would have wr

easons; her letter tells us that, without putting it into so ma

was some time before she could con

t Father a

I am very ill, dying.

one know, I must do

care, and I am wr

have always hoped t

dear home, and my de

forgive me the wron

t die happy if I did

nd mother, I know

ow I've pined and l

tle baby, all thes

e died for want of h

nly comfort-and I c

her. I was going to

but Harry lost tha

we have been on the

cruel life, and I ha

darling was spared

are of her. Don't le

nd don't ever let he

you, and I thank you

her. Give her my l

e face again! Good-

forgive myself for a

w you will forgive me

he woman here is ki

letter safe, and sen

Good

oving d

zzi

d, came in a larger envelope, and with it a slip of paper on which was written in

Birmingham postmar

s, "that I may go and bring her home to bury her,

ied Patience bitterly. She could not bring herself to mention her son-in-law by name. "He would hurry h