ced at the garment that I had let fall, a torn little dress
of Ralph's. "Do you?" she said.

"Yes; I'm sure there are not so many as there should be."

"Don't you count them every night?"

"Yes, I do; but they should be counted oftener. At mid-day, too, I
should say." I submitted this proposition deferentially, but with a
covert glance at the clock; it was nearly twelve, and I did so dislike
mending.

"Very well," Jessie said, "count them a dozen times a day if you think
best, of course."

The elation with which I arose to comply with this generous permission
was tempered somewhat by a little haunting sense of meanness. "Still,"
I reasoned, "when one's home depends on such things as cats, dogs, and
chickens, one cannot take account of stock too often. Besides, Jessie
likes to mend, at least I've never heard her say she does not, but I
have heard her say that she doesn't like to tend poultry."

When I re-entered the house, after conscientiously enumerating every
pair of yellow legs on the place, and finding, somewhat to my chagrin,
that the tally was the same as that of the previous evening, I found
Jessie sitting at the table with her face hidden in her hands. Afraid
that she was crying I at first pretended not to notice. We had more
than enough cause for tears. I picked up the discarded little dress
and, in a spasm of repentance, murmured ostensibly to Ralph, who was
playing near the table, but really for Jessie's benefit: "Sister is
going to mend the pretty blouse that you tore on the oak bush after
she gets this dress done."

"'En w'en oo' puts it on me, me do in 'e oak bush an' tear it adain,"
the child declared, cheerfully.

"You naughty boy!"

"'Es; me notty boy," with which announcement he went and leaned
against Jessie's knees. Jessie looked up; she was not crying, but her
face was haggard with pain.

"I've got a dreadful toothache," she said, and then I remembered that
she had been very restless during the night. "I'm afraid I shall know
no peace until it is out," Jessie went on, "and it's half a day's
journey to a dentist."

"And Joe has taken both the horses to go up into the Jerusalem
settlement after that seed-corn, and he can't get back before
to-morrow night!" I exclaimed, in consternation. As I sat looking at
her with eyes more tearful than her own there came to our ears the
welcome sound of wheels, and a wagon stopped at the gate. I sprang up
and ran to the door, with some faint hope, for