nd Jessie were left together, and Amy stood up and said:

"Dear, I am so glad you felt it as I did!"

"One could not help it, if one listened at all," said Jessie. "Amy, I
must be doing something for His sake. I can't rest now without it. You
teach at the Sunday school. Don't you think I might?"

Amy meditated a little.

"I think they would make up a class for you. When Miss Pemberton's niece
goes away, the class she takes has to be joined to her aunt's, and that
makes a large one."

"Then will you speak to Miss Manners for me?" asked Jessie. "Are they
little girls or big ones?"

"Oh, that's the second class. They would be sure not to give you that,"
said Amy, as if she thought the aspiration very high, not to say
presumptuous. "Perhaps Margaret Roller, the pupil-teacher, you know, may
take that. Then I should have hers and you mine. They are dear little
girls, some of them, only Susan Bray always wants a tight hand over her,
Polly Smithers is so stupid, and Fanny Morris is so sly, one always has
to be on the watch."

"Here she comes," said Florence, who was the nearest to the window, and
the entrance of Aunt Rose, a brisk, fair little woman, young looking for
her age, recalled all her "young ladies," as Florence and Jessie, and
perhaps Amy likewise, preferred being called, to recollect that
stitching was, at that moment at least, the first thing to be attended
to.

CHAPTER II.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.

PERHAPS Amy's business-like tone about the school classes fell a little
flat upon Jessie's ear. She had not been to a Sunday school in her
childhood. Her father had been a prosperous upholsterer's foreman in
Minsterham, and Grace and Jessie had gone to an "academy" till, when
they were sixteen and fourteen years old, their father died of a fever,
and their mother, who had a cottage of her own at Langley, resolved on
coming back and setting up a small shop there for all sorts of wares,
with Clementina Hollis over the door.

Jessie was about eighteen, two years younger than her sister. She had
always been a bright, quick, lively girl, but never very thoughtful, and
much too inquisitive, till her curiosity had brought on her a terrible
accident, which had kept her laid up in a hospital for many weeks. She
had come home quite well at last, and much improved. A fellow patient,
and likewise a lady who had visited her and lent her books, had both
made much impression on her. She cared about right and wrong as s