eached a stone wall which fronted the estate of Esquire
Duncan. An angle in the fence had made a corner, in which was seated a
girl of about Jessie's age and size. She was clothed in rags; her feet
were bare. She had no covering on her head save her tangled hair. Her face
and arms were brown and dirty. She shivered in the piercing wind, and
traces of recent tears were visible in the dirt which covered her woe-worn
face.

"Poor little girl! I wonder where she lives?" exclaimed Jessie.

"Where do you live, my dear?" asked Mr. Morris, addressing the child.

"New York," replied the outcast curtly.

"How came you here?"

"Mother left me down yonder," said the girl, pointing to the four
cross-roads just beyond.

"Where is your mother now?"

"Don't know."

"What did she say when she left you?"

"She told me to sit on the trough of the pump while she went to buy some
bread. But she didn't come back, and I came over here out of the wind."

"How long since she left you?"

"Ever so long."

"Poor little girl! I'm afraid your mother brought you out here to cast you
off, and so get rid of you," said Uncle Morris.

"Guess not! Guess she got drunk somewhere," said the girl, in a manner so
cold and dogged that Mr. Morris shuddered.

Here, Jessie, whose eyes were swimming with tears, pulled her uncle's
hand. Taking him a little aside, she said--

"Please, Uncle, take her home, and let me give her something to eat."

"Better take her to the alms-house, I'm thinking," replied her uncle. "She
may be a wicked girl."

"Then we can teach her to be good," said Jessie.

This was a home thrust that went right to the good old man's heart. "The
alms-house," he thought, "is not a very likely place to grow goodness in.
It is too chilly and heartless. There will be little sympathy there with
the struggles and sorrows of a child like this; Jessie shall have her way
this time. She shall go with us."

After forming this purpose, he looked at his niece, and said--

"Perhaps you are right, Jessie. The poor creature shall go home with us,
at least, for to-night."

"Oh, I am _so_ glad, I'm _so_ glad," cried Jessie, clapping her hands,
then running to the shivering child, who had been watching them during
this conversation with a puzzled air, she said--

"Come, little girl, you are to go home with me. Uncle says so."

"I don't want to. I'll wait here for mother," replied the girl, shrinking
back into her corner, against the rough