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Uncle Morris stooped to imprint a kiss on the upturned lips of the eager child. Then patting her head gently, he said:
"It is not every sower of good seed that finds his harvest sheaf so quickly as you have done. Perhaps the Great Husbandman has given my Jessie hers to encourage her to sow, and sow, and sow again--but Jessie, I have found your Madge's mother."
"Have you, _truly_?" asked Jessie, feeling her interest suddenly revived in her _protege_.
"Yes. Come with me to your mother's room and I will tell you all about it."
This "mother's room" was up-stairs, and up they went. Finding Mrs. Carlton there with her seamstress, they sat down, and Uncle Morris told his story.
Said he:
"I have seen Mrs. Clifton. She is sober this morning, and is quite a well-bred, intelligent woman. She has been respectable; was well married to a reputable man. But foolishly forsaking their quiet country home, they went to the city in the hope of acquiring property. There her husband, failing to get work, took to drinking and died. Mrs. Clifton buried him, and, dreading to go back to her old home because of poverty, tried to support herself by needle-work. In an evil hour she took to drinking; first as a stimulant to labor, and then as a cordial to soothe her griefs.
Of course she soon sank very low, and made poor Madge go out to beg. At last, stung with remorse, she resolved to quit the city, and, seeking work in the country, become a sober woman again. Filled with this purpose she travelled as far as Duncanville with her child, when her appet.i.te for drink came upon her. Leaving Madge at the Four Corners she sought the tavern. The rest you know. _We_ found the child, and _she_ spent the night in the lock-up."
"Poor thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Carlton.
"Poor little Madge!" cried Jessie, who very naturally felt more for the unfortunate child, than for the unhappy, but guilty mother.
"Yes," said Mr. Morris, "but pity alone won't do them much good. The question is, what shall be done with them?"
"True," rejoined Mrs. Carlton, "but are you sure the woman's story is true?"
"It agrees with the account Madge gave of herself, so far as the affair of last evening is concerned. Being true in _one_ thing, I hope it is in all.
She has, however, given me references to her old friends in the country, and professes to be very anxious to live a reformed life. I will write to her friends, but, meanwhile, what shall we do with her?"
"Let her come here, and stay with Madge?" suggested Jessie.
Mrs. Carlton looked at her brother, and read in his eyes an approval of her daughter's suggestion.
"Be it so," said she, "if you think best. I can keep her busy with her needle, until we hear from her friends, and something offers. Perhaps a few days spent in our quiet home, will confirm her in her feeble purposes to reenter the way of sobriety."
"Spoken just like yourself!" said Mr. Morris, with an expression which showed how greatly he loved and admired his sister. "I will go after the poor creature directly."
"Oh, I'm _so_ glad Madge's mother is coming here to live!" cried Jessie, clapping her hands, and running down-stairs to tell the good news to her _protege_.
The outcast child looked a grat.i.tude she did not know how to express, after hearing what Jessie had to say. She fixed her large, black eyes, swimming in tears, upon her friendly hostess, and silently watched her every motion.
"I think it's very kind of your mother, to take a stranger into her house so," whispered Carrie.
"So it is," replied Jessie, who was now busy with her embroidery on the slipper. "So it is, but my Uncle Morris says that it is G.o.dlike to be kind, and that if we are kind and loving to poor people, the great G.o.d will honor us, and care for us."
Carrie looked at the sweet face of Jessie with admiration for some time, without saying a word. At last, to break the silence, she said:
"Won't we have a good time, skating this afternoon?"
"I hope so," said Jessie; "and we will take Madge with us, shall we?"
"Can you skate, Madge?" asked Carrie.
Madge shook her head. The child was nervous and uneasy about the coming of her mother. She was afraid she might come to the house tipsy, and so offend the friends who loved her so well.
"Can you _slide_ on the ice?" asked Jessie.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Madge, evidently getting to be more and more absent-minded.
"She is thinking about her mother," whispered Carrie.
"Yes, don't let us trouble her," replied Jessie.
Quickly sped the bright needle, with its beautiful worsteds, along the slipper, and quickly grew into shape the flowers which were to form the pattern. A happy heart and a resolute will, make her fingers both nimble and skilful.
By and by, Uncle Morris's night-key was heard opening the door-latch again. Jessie started, listened a moment, then dropped her work, and taking Madge's hand, said:
"Your mother is come!"
"Where is she?" asked the child, looking anxiously toward the door.
"Come with me, I'll show you," said Jessie, taking her by the hand.
They went into the hall. Uncle Morris was there, and so was Mrs. Clifton.
She was a short, slender, well-formed woman, with large, dark bloodshot eyes. Her face was pale, her cheeks hollow, and her hair uncombed. She was poorly dressed, and yet there was something about her, which told of better things. As soon as she saw Madge, she ran to her, folded her nervously to her bosom, and exclaimed:
"Oh! my child! pity your poor, wretched mother!"
Madge, finding her mother to be sober, grew cheerful. Her mother, after being taken to the bath-room, and furnished with some changes of raiment, was installed in the room with the seamstress, and then, as waters close up, and flow on smoothly again, after a little disturbance, so did affairs at Glen Morris move on once more, in their wonted quiet course.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Skating-Party.
"Now you can go skating with me, can't you?" inquired Carrie Sherwood, as she pushed her little round face in at the door after dinner.
"Yes, _now_ I can go," replied Jessie. "I did ever so much on my slipper this morning, and shall get it done by the last of the week."
"If you stick to it, but I know you _won't_," said Hugh, interrupting his sister.
Jessie felt a little anger stir in her heart on hearing this fling at a habit she was trying so so hard to overcome. But saying to herself, "never mind, I deserve it," she merely gave Hugh a glance of reproof, and was silent.
"I say, that's ungenerous, Mister Hugh," observed Guy, taking up his sister's case. "You know Jessie is learning to stick to her purposes, and that is more than anybody can say of you."
"Don't be too hard upon a fellow just for a joke," replied Hugh, wincing under his brother's. .h.i.t.
"Well, don't you throw stones at Jessie; at least, not so long as you live in a gla.s.s house yourself," said Guy. Then turning to the girls, he added: "Come girls, get ready, and I'll go with you to help Jessie try her new skates."
"Oh, thank you, you dear good Guy!" replied Jessie, running to her brother and giving him a sweet sisterly kiss.