mischievous boy, if, indeed, it had not wholly spoiled
him. If Charlie had known what was best for him he would have said to his
friends,

"Please don't let me have my own way."

Emily needed to make the same request, for she too, had long done pretty
much as she pleased; and, as we have seen, she was _pleased_ to do some
very bad things.

Two days before the time set for the cousins to return home, they went to
spend the day with Carrie Sherwood. Jessie, who was to join them after her
morning's sewing was done, sat down to her work in high spirits. The quilt
had grown large within a few days, and as she took it up this morning, she
said:

"The little Wizard hasn't been able to catch me for ever so many days. I
guess he won't trouble me much more now. See my quilt! (here she stood up,
and drawing the quilt from the basket, spread it out.) Two more rows of
patchwork will finish it. Ha! ha! only two more; I'm so glad. And won't
Uncle Morris be pleased when he sees it spread over his bed some night!
ha! ha!"

Here Jessie sat down and began to make her bright little needle fly almost
as swiftly as if it had been in a sewing-machine. While she sewed she
hummed the following words, which, as Uncle Morris said, had more truth in
them than poetry:

"I love to do right,
And I love the truth,
And I'll always love them,
While in my youth.

"And when I grow old,
And when I grow gray,
I will love them still,
Do wrong who may."

Having finished her song, Jessie rested her hands on her lap a moment, and
said:

"I love those words, I do. When I grow _gray_! ha! ha! Jessie Carlton a
little old woman with _gray hair_! Won't it be funny? I wonder if
everybody will love me then as everybody loves Uncle Morris now. Why not?
Everybody?--no, not _everybody_, for Charlie don't love him, and our Hugh
don't love him much. That's because they are naughty, though. Well, every
good person loves Uncle Morris, because he is so good and kind; and so, if
I am good and kind, when I am a little, gray old woman, everybody will
love me. Ha! ha! Won't it be nice to be called Aunt Jessie, and to be
loved, oh, so well!--but I must go on with my sewing."

Tap, tap, tap, said somebody's knuckles on the door.

"Come in," cried Jessie.

The door opened. Car