The Story of Jessie | Page 8

I
hand her over to you she'll waken, as sure as anything."
Patience only nodded, she could not speak, her heart was so full, and
rising she followed him up the stairs, carrying the lamp. At the door of

Lizzie's old room she expected him to stop and hand the sleeping child
over to her, but, apparently without remembering what room it was, he
walked straight in, and very tenderly laid his burthen on the bed. Then,
with a glance at the rose-bush on the sill, he crept softly out and down
the stairs again.
Patience stood by her little sleeping grandchild with tears of joy in her
eyes. "She's broke his will," she said gladly, "for her sake he's forgotten.
P'raps now he'll get over the trouble, and forget, and be happier again."
CHAPTER III.
SHOPPING AND TEAING.
The next morning some of Jessie's shyness had returned, but it vanished
again at the sight of the mug with the pictures and the plate with the
"words" on it. At the liberal dishful of bacon and eggs she stared
wide-eyed.
"You can eat a slice of bacon and an egg, can't you, dearie?" asked her
granny.
"Yes, please!" with a sigh of pleasure. "May I?"
"Why, of course," said granny heartily. "Why not? Do you like eggs?"
Jessie nodded. "I had one once, a whole one, but that was for my dinner.
We don't ever have eggs for breakfast at home," she added
impressively.
"Don't you?" answered her grandfather gravely, "then what do you
have? Something you like better, I s'pose?"
He did not ask from curiosity, that was the last thing he would have
been guilty of; he only wanted to show an interest and to hear her talk.
"We don't have nuffin', 'cepts when father has got work, then father has
a bloater. Me and mother have one too, sometimes, then. But when

father is out of work we only has bread."
Patience turned pale, and Thomas groaned. Jessie looked up with quick
sympathy. "Have you hurted your toof, granp?" she asked gravely, little
dreaming that it was she herself who had given him pain.
"No, my dear, granp's all right. Try and make a good breakfast now.
You've got to get as plump and round as the kitten over there."
Patience had laid down her knife and fork, and sat staring before her
with miserably troubled eyes. "It seems wrong to be eating, when--
when there's others--one's own, too--going hungry!"
"Nonsense now," said Thomas gruffly; "don't 'ee talk like that, mother,
it's foolish. We've got to think of ourselves and those about us, and it's
our duty to eat and drink and be sensible, whether we likes it or not."
He spoke gruffly, because he felt that if he spoke in any other way, he
or Patience would break down.
Jessie came to their help, though. "My rose is nearly out, granp," she
announced proudly, as soon as she was able to lift her thoughts from
the wonderful experience of having an egg and bacon for breakfast. "I
saw it all showing pink. I expect by the time we've finished our
breakfases it will be right wide out. You come up and see too, will
you?"
And sure enough when breakfast was really done, she took his hand in
hers and led him up and into the room he had shunned so long.
"I don't think it will be full out until to-morrow," he decided; but Jessie
couldn't help thinking he had made a mistake, and many times that day
she climbed the stairs to see, and was quite troubled when at last she
had to go to bed, for fear the bud would open while her eyes were shut.
"I think it is a very slow rose," she said, shaking her head sagely as her
granny was undressing her. "I am sure it ought to have been out by this
time."

And then, after all her watching, the bud burst into full bloom before
Jessie was awake the next morning. When she opened her eyes and saw
it she felt quite vexed. "I wish I had put you back in a dark corner," she
said to it, "then you wouldn't have opened till I was awake."
"The little maid is a born gardener," chuckled her grandfather, when he
was told of it; "'tis the folk that talks to their flowers that gets the best
out of them."
"If talking'll do it, her rose-bush will be covered thick, then," laughed
her grandmother.
"I wish I could send some of my roses to mother," sighed Jessie;
"mother loves roses," and the tears came into her eyes. "Granny, do you
think my roses will all be gone before mother comes for me?"
"Your--mother! Is she coming?" Patience was so taken aback that