nd '; that's four."

"Perhaps the others is Cabbage Rosie, Dog Rosie, and Cider Rosie,"
said grandfather, chuckling.

Jessie burst into a peal of laughter as she thrust one hand into her
grandfather's. "What things you do say, granp," she protested, and
clasping her bouquet in her other hand, she skipped along by the old
man's side. "Oh, I have learnt such a lot of things to-day," she
said impressively. "There's one rose called 'Mr. Richardson,'
another called 'Miss Perkins,' and another called 'Plain Homer,' and
now there's 'Seven Sisters,' all with different names." Then she
told him all about the toad, and the little story Miss Grace had read
to her. "And to-morrow I am to learn to knit, and soon I'll be able
to knit your stockings, granp, and cuffs to keep your arms warm in
winter, and a shawl for granny."

"My!" exclaimed grandfather, with pleased surprise, "we shan't know
ourselves, we shall be so warm and comfortable. But don't you go
overworking yourself, little maid." Jessie laughed gleefully.
She loved to think of all she was going to do for her grandfather and
grandmother.

"Oh no," she said. "You see, I am very strong, and I like to have
lots to do."

And "lots" she did do, in her staid, old-fashioned way. "I don't
know whatever I should do without Jessie," granny would often remark
to grandfather as the months went by, and Jessie became more and more
useful about the house.

"It puzzles me to know how we ever got on before she came,"
grandfather would answer; and, as time went by, and Jessie grew
taller and stronger and more and more capable, they wondered more and
more frequently how they could ever have managed without her.

Jessie, too, often wondered how she had ever lived and been happy
without her grandfather and grandmother, and "Sunnyside Cottage," and
the garden, and the flowers, and her own rose-bush. At first she had
thought a great deal about her mother, and wondered when she would
come for her; and every nice new thing she had she wanted her to
share, and every flower she had she wanted to save for her. But she
saved them so often, and then had to throw them away dead, that at
last she ceased to do so; and by and by, as the months passed, she
grew accustomed to enjoying things without her mother; and at last
she gave up wondering when she would come. In fact, for some time
before she gave up expecting her, Jessie had begun to hope that when
her mother did come, she would no