Hugh, maybe?"

"You must guess again, Uncle."

"Well, maybe it is for your hero, Richard Duncan."

"O Uncle! Do you think I would embroider a handkerchief for a young
gentleman!" and Jessie pursed up her lips as though she was going to be
very angry.

"Don't be angry with your old uncle, my little puss," said Mr. Morris with
an air of mock penitence, "I had an idea that young ladies did such things
for young gentlemen sometimes. But who is it for? I give it up."

"You give it up! Why, I thought you belonged to the 'never give up
company.' Oh, fy! Uncle Morris, I'll get you turned out of the try company
if you don't mind. So you had better guess again," and Jessie held up her
fat finger and looked so funnily at Mr. Morris that the old gentleman's
heart warmed towards her, and giving her a kiss of fond affection, he
said--

"Then I guess it is for your poor old uncle."

"Beans are hot!" cried Jessie, clapping her hands. "You've guessed it at
last. But see my work, Uncle! Isn't it beautiful?"

"Very pretty, indeed, my dear," replied the old man, who now put on a
comical look, and added, "but I'm afraid I shall not live until it is
finished."

"Not live----!" Jessie was going to be alarmed, but her uncle's laughing
eyes checked her alarm, and catching his meaning from his expression, she
pouted and was silent.

"Don't put on that frightful pout, my little puss, for, really, I should
have to live as long a life as an ancient patriarch if I do not die before
you are likely to _finish_ the handkerchief. There are the quilt, the
slippers, the watch-pocket, the chair-cushion, and the handkerchief all
_begun_ for me, but nothing finished. That little wizard--his name is
Impulse, you know--which led you to drop the quilt that you might begin
the slippers, and the slippers that you might begin the chair-cushion,
will soon tempt you to drop the handkerchief for something else. I wish I
could catch the jolly little imp. I'd cane him smartly, and then I would
lead him to Parson Resolution's church, and marry him to that sweet little
fairy, Miss Perseverance, who is breaking her heart for the love of him.
Were he once thus married, I think his bride would teach him to help you
finish all the little gifts you have begun for me, and there would be some
hope that I should live long enough to sleep under your quilt, sit on your
cushion, walk in your slippers, put my watch in your pocket at night, and
blow my venerable nose in