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 gratitude 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 godlike to be
kind, and that if we are kind and loving to poor people, the great God
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 he