had sprung to her feet with excitement. "I think it is
perfectly lovely," she cried, "perfectly lovely! Shall we begin next
Sunday? Oh, do, please! and may I go down and tell Charlie? He will
be _so_ glad. Thank you ever and ever so much," and putting up her
hands she drew Miss Patch's thin face down to her own and kissed it
warmly.

Charlie was as delighted as Jessie, and the prospect of going up to
Miss Patch's room for an hour or so filled him with joyful
excitement. Mrs. Lang was pleased, too. Anything that gave Charlie
pleasure was sure to give her pleasure, and she was thankful for any
means of teaching him and giving him new interests.

No one told Harry Lang about it, for he took no interest in anything
they did, and they knew too well that his crooked temper would find
delight in putting a stop to any little scheme they made. Tom Salter
knew, though, for having met Mrs. Lang one day struggling up the
stairs with Charlie in her arms, wrapped in blankets, he insisted on
carrying him up for her, every time he went, after that, and when he
was asked to stay, he did stay, and listened to Miss Patch reading,
and joined in the hymns, and after the first time he came quite
often.

Jessie was delighted, she liked Tom Salter, for though he spoke but
little, he had often done her a kindness, helping her carry a heavy
scuttle of coal up the stairs, or a pail of water; and many a time,
of a Saturday night, he cleaned several pairs of the lodgers' boots
for her in readiness for Sunday; and many other kindly acts he had
done, that meant much to the little over-burthened worker, for
Jessie's life was a hard one in those days.

Miss Patch took care of her own room, and required no attention, but
there were two lodgers in the front rooms on each landing, and all
required meals cooked and carried to their rooms mornings and
evenings, their rooms swept and dusted, their boots cleaned, and a
hundred little attentions, and to Jessie it seemed as though she
spent most of her life on the stairs, on her way up or down,
generally carrying heavy trays or a load of some sort.

Then there were the beds to help to make, windows to clean, rooms and
stairs to sweep, and numberless other duties. Fortunately, Jessie
liked housework, and Mrs. Dawson might well have been proud of her
pupil, could she have seen the difference that by degrees crept over
the look of the house, both inside and out, as time went on.

The windows were