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the village now, and it isn't far to the house • Come in with me, Jessie,' said the old where I lived when I was a little girl.' man kindly. My cottage is near by, Presently an old white-haired man came and my daughter will take care of you
and hobbling along on his stick towards them. the children till you can right yourself. Your grandfather will be something like Come in : for the sake of your father and that, Katie,' said Mrs. Saunders. Why, if mother you're kindly welcome.' it is not George Grey! I remember him It was well he said so, for Jessie's strength well. Mr. Grey, Mr. Grey, have you for- was quite spent ; and when she entered gotten me?
Don't you mind the time you George Grey's house she only tottered to a nursed me on your knee? I'm Jessie Saun- chair before she fell fainting on the floor. ders, that was once Jessie Brooke.'
Three days later, little Katie and Ally 'Jessie Brooke!' said the old man slowly, Saunders had made friends with most of the looking keenly at her: 'Jessie Brooke, who village children, who came to look at Jessie would
off to London to better herself? Brooke's girls;' but their mother lay weak I shouldn't have known you, my woman,
if and faint, as if she could not rally from the there wasn't a sound in your voice that re- fatigue and shock she bad endured. minded me of your mother's. Well, and • Both gone! both lying in the churchhave you made your fortune, Jessie ?' yard !' she would murmur; and then tears
Sad fortune, Mr. Grey! I have had fell fast down her care-worn cheeks, and naught but sorrow, it seems, since I left turning to the wall she refused all comfort. Bryford; and now my husband's dead.' Poor Jessie! hers had been a sad story.
And what are you reckoning to do here, The Bryford people talked together of what Jessie ? You found it a dull place once,
she had been in childhood—the petted only and maybe its duller now, for many a one's child of Tom and Katherine Brooke--growlying in the churchyard whom you knew ing up vain and pretty, and as wilful as she hale and strong.'
well could be. Work was hard to Jessie, so 'I've come to work--to wash, or sew, or Jessie must not work; and thus her time was iron, anything to get a decent living, for I given to dressing her beautiful hair in every have learned not to be above work now,' style she could invent, and making tasty said Jessie Saunders with a sigh. "I thought bonnets and trimmings for her own wearI'd make my way to my mother's cottage, ing. Then, at fifteen, the strong desire had and she'll take me in a bit till I can turn come to leave the dull village. She would go myself round.
to London and be a lady's-maid, and save You'll find no one there, Jessie. The
money to make a finer house for her father old cottage stands still, but the garden is and mother than that four-roomed cottage; overgrown with weeds, and it looks a damp, and so, when this fancy seized her, there was deserted place now they're dead and gone.' no peace until Jessie had her way. In vain
The poor weary woman turned white Mr. Brooke declared he would never hear of and leaned against the wall for support. it; in vain the mother cried and begged * Then it is too late! I'm come too late!' Jessie not to leave her: in the end they gave she murmured, and the tears fell upon little way, and the wilful girl went off in gay spirits sick Ally's face; which set the child crying to a place she had heard of in London. too, and calling on her mother for some
(Concluded in our next.) thing to drink'in louder tones than before.
AMONG LIONS. doing that Gilbert could think of was by (Continued from page 261.) running down Little Island.
• It wasn't much of a place, Alice," he ILBERT was enjoying bim- said, and horridly cold coming back. I'm
“ self all the while, and only glad you didn't go, for you were half right. looking back shorewards to
The “Lovely Maid” isn't a very safe boat, blame Alice as fussy and and that Bill swears rather. I shall write cross.
home and ask Here Gilbert stopped, If Alice had known the with an uncomfortable recollection of the truth, that Gilbert was letter on the table outside. even more uncomfortable 'I have written to-night, Gilbert dear, than herself, I do not know
said Alice; and then, to make all smooth if she would have been better pleased ; at between them, for a guess at Gilbert's susall events, after a little idle fretting, and picion flashed through her mind, she ran then ten minutes' earnest thought, she did out and fetched the letter, making, as she the best thing she could for herself and
broke the seal, a little excuse about a word Gilbert. First, she made the room neat and she had had a difficulty in spelling. tidy: Gilbert and she managed usually to Gilbert's face lightened as he read the litter it finely with sea-weeds, shells, and letter. such-like wonders of the shore; then she • You're a good sort of girl, Alice," be rang and asked Helen to see there was a said, when he had finished, and another very good supper, as Master Gilbert would
time I'll do as you do. It was no such be hungry, having missed his tea; and then great fun being out without you to talk to. she sat down and wrote to ask her father's
, you have spelt “ attitudinise“ wrong.
, " leave for future boating excursions, omitting Give us a pen to make a z. What long all mention of Gilbert's expedition that words you do use, Alice! I wish you had day.
my holiday task to do—a theme on the A mist came on towards evening and advance of civilisation ! I brought my books made Alice very anxious, but the ‘Lovely here, but I don't see how ever I can find Maid' found her way home with a little time for it, there is such a lot of reading difficulty; the crew, however, being much up to be done before I can begin to write chilled and depressed.
anything.' • Been writing bome to tell of me,' was Oh! couldn't I help with that?' said Gilbert's inward comment, as he saw Alice's Alice, eagerly. "I should like it. It is all letter lying on the ball-table; so he answered English, you know, and I could read aloud rather gruffly when Alice, in the pleasantest when you are lying on the shore. Father tone she could muster, asked if he was cold, would be so pleased, Gilbert, if you managed
| and suggested the kitchen fire.
to get the prize this time; and you might, But he was not proof against the eggs, and gooseberries, and lamb-chops at supper, Yes, I might,' said Gilbert, yawning, and his sister's gentle reception of his rebuffs especially if you coached me, Alice, for I
• made him rather ashamed of himself. do know a lot about civilisation already.'
Boys, however, have a natural shyness And the young barbarian yawned again, over making up, and the only way of so and let Alice fetch a candle, and light him
upstairs, and draw his curtains, and wind up and comforted, his sick flock, taking adhis watch, and perform two or three other vantage of the softening influence of sorrow little services for him, leaving him only the to win some stubborn or wavering ones tumbling into bed to execute for himself. into the fold.
But Alice went to her bed very happy : Miss Dawkins was an able assistant to she had conquered her ill-humour conse- him, simple, straightforward, and she proved quent on their dispute early in the day, and herself an excellent nurse. her gentle reception of Gilbert had opened Her chief need, however, was some one to his heart to her, and also convinced him work under her in the day-time, to amuse that he had been in the wrong.
• He will the half-convalescent children, and to run wait for leave now, before he goes out again, messages; not a difficult post, but her last thought she, with great relief; and he is assistant, a farmer's daughter, had sickened not the least vexed with me, though I was and died of the fever within a week: which so cross with him.'
sad occurrence so terrified the poor vilAlice said her prayers very thankfully lagers that the school was regarded with that night, and woke in the morning with the greatest alarm, and Mr. Swayne himself a feeling that the world was a very bright was almost the only means of communica
tion between it and the outer world, save
when a sad little procession visited it, CHAPTER XV.
father or mother or big brother carrying MEANTIME, Moor Thornton was in the a new candidate for admission, just struck thickest of its troubles. The fever had down. made the quiet village its stronghold, and Miss Brett had indeed recovered enough though the deaths in proportion to the sick to lend a little aid, and as the elder were few, thanks to care and good nursing, children got better they did what they still a blight seemed over the place.
could to help the rest, but still the ChildFarmer Mills' barn and the school-house ren's Hospital was very short-handed. were both used as hospitals; the former for Matters were in this state when one grown-up people, the latter for the children. afternoon the school door, which generally Professed nurses from London were in stood ajar to admit what air was stirring, charge of the former, but Miss Brett, and was gently pushed wider, and a small pale afterwards Miss Dawkins, had always kept child stepped in. the superintendence of the little ones. No one noticed her for a moment, and Most of the gentlefolk of the country- the little girl looked puzzled and bewilside had fled to some safer region, leaving, dered. She well might; for who could it is true, alms for their less fortunate recognise Moor schoolroom as it used to be, neighbours with Mr. Swayne.
in the row of little beds, sofas, and couches stedfastly to his post, resisting all en- scattered about, while for the hum of busy treaties to take at least a week's rest with voices reading and spelling rose the pitiful his children.
moan of half-conscious children ? ‘By-and-bye,' he would say. 'I am strong Miss Dawkins was sitting by a little bed still, and the strength is given me for a trying to soothe one very restless child purpose.'
when the new-comer approached her softly, So he watched and tended, counselled saying,