“A little,” began the new friend, with a sympathetic glance. “I know models are paid for sitting; did you wish to do it with me because I'm poor?” asked Jessie, with an irrepressible frown and a glance at the thrice-cleaned dress and the neatly mended gloves. Mr. Vane knew what thorn pricked the sensitive little girl, and answered in his friendliest tone,-- “I never thought of such a thing. I wanted YOU to help ME, because I am poor in what artists so much need,--real grace and beauty. I hoped you would allow me to give your sister a copy of the sketch as a token of my gratitude for your great kindness.” The frown vanished and the smile returned as the soft answer turned away Jessie's wrath and made her hasten to say penitently,-- “I was very rude; but I haven't learned to be humble yet, and often forget that I am poor. Please come to us any time. Laura will enjoy seeing you work, and be delighted with anything you give her. So shall I, though I don't deserve it.” “I won't punish you by painting the frown that quite frightened me just now, but do my best to keep the happy face, and so heap coals of fire on your head. They won't burn any more than the pretty red leaves that brought me this good fortune,” answered the artist, seeing that his peace was made. “I'm SO glad I wore them!” and as if trying to make amends for her little flash of temper, Jessie told him about the ivy, and how she loved it,--unconsciously betraying more of her pathetic little story than she knew, and increasing her hearer's interest in his new model. The children came back in riotous spirits, and Jessie was called to lead the revels again. But now her heart was as light as her heels; for she had something pleasant to think of,--a hope of help for Laura, and the memory of kind words to make hard duties easier. Mr. Vane soon slipped away, promising to come the next day; and at eight o'clock Jessie ran home to tell her sister the good news, and to press the little wreath which had served her so well.