The Story of Jessie

ore long. One morning her mother had, unexp

o make his bed; you must tidy it while I am out. I shan't be very long, and t

and dustpan, and a bit of rag for a duster. Charlie looked up in astonishment when she came in, then

I had a dust-sheet, but it can't be helped, I must do without one. Now, steady! I am going to move your bed out from the wall. One, two, three, and be off!" and with a t

and how nice, every

think my bed cou

ut I dare say mother wouldn't mind your having it somewhere else for a change. We'll try it, and ask h

of the window and see the houses opposite, and I haven't got the light shinin

looking nice by the time Mrs. Lang returned. She ran down with the bits of carpet and beat them, then she dusted the mantelpiece and the furniture, and arra

"Oh, it is nice! It l

away for a change. Eve

k Miss Patch to come

love

o Miss Patch yet, but she had heard a good deal about her from Charlie, who seemed very fond indeed of her, and often bemoaned the fact that she lived at the very top of

nd of a soft voice singing, and paused a mome

t tell th

gh for th

e Master,

this cu

a moment, and Jessie ge

oice brightly; "open the d

res on the walls at each end, an old-fashioned wooden bed at one side, a dear little round table before the fire, and a large arm-chair. The room was a large attic which really stretched over the whole of the top of the house, but though it was so lar

with a bright smile, a smile which brighte

his room. I have been tidying it a little, and I moved the

sm in my knee to-day, and I can't get up and down stairs very well.

further into the room, "I would l

le, that is all, dear. But will you wait just a moment

ly done, and it isn't worth while for you to wet your hands. Sit down instead and talk to me. I heard that Mrs. Lang wa

s Jes

l once called by that name, and I have been fond of it e

ne growing all over the front of his house, and he has ever such beautiful red may-trees in the garden. They were the

ingy street to brighten us up, and bring beautiful and fragrant things to our minds. Jessamine and may blossom," she repeated softly; "oh, the picture

midly; and then her eye falling on a rose-bush in Miss Patch's window, all her tim

s, and I loved it so." The quivering of her lips prevented her saying mo

but you will some day-and in the meantime you are come to be a bit of sweet garden in our midst, to cheer us as your rose cheered you-and we do need some brightness here, little Jessamine May,

looking and admiring, and agreeing what a wonderful improvement it was, and how much more comfortable and spacious the ro

had been taking a great liberty, but Mrs. Lang was too weary and anxious to make tr

foot of Charlie's bed to hear all about it, and all the advantages

ed in occasionally, but her quick sympathy wa

red out," sh

than any one can battle with, and the damp seems to get into on

a cup of tea? I know the kettle is boiling by t

her, do, and have it up here, and Miss P

er heard of such a thing! I believe, though, that one would do me good,

" she laughed, "if I had to get up

e shabby tray and the tea-cups and spoons. She had no pretty white cloth to lay on the tray, unfortunately, but she had a sheet of white paper that she had saved from a

en came back for the teapot and kettle. A second chair was got fro

was one of those bright little spots which linger long in the m

ss," sighed Mrs. Lang, at last reluctantly preparing

, wait a minute, I wa

ing to us, just once,

to sing to me. Oh,

nk, she was very shy-"I-I ain't accustomed to singing, except to myself, and-well, I used

arnestly, "and nobody ever sing

y brave of her, for to do so cost her a great effort. "Perhaps we could choose a hymn we all know, and we could all join in. I a

np and I used to sing th

r Charlie was too exhausted, and after the first line or so Mrs. Lang could not get out another word for the pain a

e only one she could give him-and what was to become of him if he lost her?" But she forced the thoug

felt almost glad, the pain and the p

er's arms, and Miss Patch in her thin, sweet voice sang to a plaintive cha

my life a

he world

ame that bu

er I m

y life a li

veth jo

bloom in

its place

y life a li

the weak

health and st

my neighbo

liked the words so much that I learnt them by heart, and they ran in my head

ovely," said Charlie

make my life a little flower," the words repeated themselves again in her brain. "Miss Patch ca

to bear. Without those sweet, happy years at Springbrook she could never have come as a little piece of sweet garden to this sad corner of the world. Perhaps God had something for her-even a litt