"Oh! did you? Well, that alters the case, I suppose. But please break it for _once_; _only_ this once, just to please me, you know. Come, there's a dear, good Jessie; do come over to my house this afternoon."

Oh! how Jessie did long to drop her sewing, and go with her friend. There was a mighty struggle in her heart for a few moments; but her purpose triumphed at last, and in a calm, firm voice, she replied:

"No, dear Carrie, not until nearly dark. I must finish my quilt to-morrow morning. You go and get my cousins and take them with you. I will come over just as soon as it is too dark to see to sew without a light; and that won't be a great while, you know, this short afternoon."

Carrie saw that her friend's mind was made up. So turning to leave the room she said:

"Well, I suppose you are right; but mind you come as early as you can."

"That I will," rejoined Jessie.

Carrie left the room. The next moment she pushed the door open again, and peeping in, said,

"Jessie?"

"Well, dear, what is it?"

"Ask your ma to let you stay till half-past nine, will you?"

"Yes."

"Good-by."

"Good-by till dark," replied Jessie, laughing at the idea of her friend bidding her good-by just for an hour.

Jessie now felt very strong in her purpose. She had resisted no less than four temptations to yield to her impulses in about an hour and a half.

This was doing n.o.bly, and Jessie felt more self-respect than she had ever felt before. She was certainly doing battle in real earnest with her old enemy, the little wizard, as Uncle Morris facetiously called him. And she had her reward for all her self-denial in the glad feelings which bubbled up in her heart like springs of water in some cosy mountain nook.

Nothing else came to tempt Jessie the remainder of that afternoon. She sewed until it was too dark to see in front of the fire; then she took her seat close to the window, and it was not until she could no longer see to take a st.i.tch neatly that she began to put up her work.

"One more morning will finish it," said she, after taking a glance at her work. "Oh! how glad I shall be when I have taken the last st.i.tch. And won't I be glad when it comes out of the quilting-frame, and is spread upon Uncle Morris's bed. It's been a long time doing--Oh! ever so long--thanks to the little wizard. But little wizard, little wizard, go away! go away! We don't want you any longer in Glen Morris Cottage."

In this cheerful mood Jessie tied on her hood and cloak, and tripped over to Carrie Sherwood's, where she spent one of the pleasantest evenings she had enjoyed since the coming of her cousins to Duncanville. For some reasons unknown to me, it pleased that selfish brother and sister to put on their best and most approved behavior. Perhaps they caught a ray or two of the joy which beamed, like sunshine, from Jessie's heart.

The next morning after breakfast, filled with the idea of finishing the quilt before dinner, Jessie found a parcel in her work-basket directed to Miss Jessie Carlton.

"What can it be?" said she, as she hastily untied the string, and unfolded the wrapping-paper.

"A pair of ladies' skates! Oh, how glad I am! I wonder who sent them. Oh!

here is a piece of paper. What does it say?"

Holding the paper to the light she read as follows:

"From a fond father to his beloved daughter."

"From pa! Oh, how good of him! It's too bad he didn't stop to let me thank him. But I'll thank him to-night. I've been wishing all this fall for a pair of skates, because all the girls are going to have them. Suppose I just step out and try them a little while."

Thus did Jessie talk out her thoughts to herself. Thus did the impulse come over her to leave her morning's duty and repeat the fault of the day before. It was fortunate, perhaps, that her cousins, knowing she meant to sew, had rushed off to find a slide before she discovered her new skates.

Their persuasions, joined to her own impulse, might have overcome her and brought her into bondage to the little wizard again. Without their presence, I confess, the temptation to try the skates was a very strong one. Jessie was getting ready to go out when her eye fell on the paper which was still pinned to the basket's edge. She paused, blushed, put down the skates, and said aloud:

"No, no, little wizard, I won't obey you. The quilt shall be finished, and the skates shall wait until the afternoon."

"Three cheers for my little conqueror!" shouted Uncle Morris, who, coming in at that moment, overheard this last remark.

"O uncle! I was _almost_ conquered myself," said Jessie.

"Never mind that, for now you are _quite_ a conqueror," rejoined her uncle, smiling and patting her head.

Need I say that the quilt was finished that morning? It was; and before Jessie sat down to dinner, she had the pleasure of seeing it put into the quilting-frame by Maria, the seamstress of the household. And thus did our sweet little Jessie win her first really decisive victory over the little wizard which had hitherto been to her like the fisherman's wife, Alice, in the fairy tale--the plague of her life.

CHAPTER VIII.

Farewell to the Cousins.

Scarcely had Jessie feasted her eyes on her quilt, snugly fixed between the bars of the quilting-frame, before the dinner-bell rang out its pleasant call. The happy girl skipped down-stairs with a light and merry step. In the hall she met her brothers.

"O Guy!" she exclaimed, "I have finished my quilt! Aren't you glad!"

"To be sure I am," said Guy, kissing her rosy cheek, "and I expect you will be so well-pleased with my old friend, Never-give-up, who helped you finish it, that you will never give him the mitten again."

"Pshaw!" cried Hugh with a sneer, "I'll bet my new knife, that she gives him the mitten before the week is out. Jessie isn't made of the right stuff for your famous Try Company, any more than I am. She hasn't got the perseverance of a kitten."

"And yet she has more of it, than Master Hugh Carlton, for he has never finished any thing but his dinner, and she has finished her _quilt_," said Uncle Morris, who as he was crossing the hall to the dining-room, heard Hugh's unkind remark.

"There, Hugh, you are fairly hit now," said Guy, laughing.

"They who live in gla.s.s-houses shouldn't throw stones, should they, my little puss?" said Uncle Morris, leading Jessie into the dining-room.

"Hugh is always teasing me," replied Jessie, "I wish he was more like Guy."

Dinner was waiting, and taking their seats at the table, they all sat in silence, while Uncle Morris reverently craved a blessing. He had hardly finished, before Charlie and Emily rushed into the room, leaving traces of their feet on the carpet, at every step.

"My dears, where have you been to wet your feet so?" asked Mrs. Carlton, seeing that their boots were soaked with water.

"Oh! it's been thawing, Aunt, and we got our feet wet, sliding," said Emily, as she took her seat at the table, panting and pushing the ringlets back from her face.

"You had better put on dry socks and boots, before you eat," observed Mrs.

Carlton. She then touched the bell. The servant entered.

"Mary," said the lady, "take these children to their rooms, and change their socks and boots!"

"Yes mem," said Mary, looking daggers at the two cousins.

"Can't I wait till after dinner, aunt?" asked Emily.