'If anybody can do it, you can, Jessie.' 'You think nothing but good of me, Chris.' 'I only say what I feel. And you really want uncle Bryan to love you?' 'Yes--more than I can say--and I can scarcely tell why.' 'Except,' I said, with a foolish hesitation, 'that you like to be loved by everybody.' 'Perhaps it is because of that, Chris. I _do_ like everybody to love me. It is much nicer so.' If I wanted any consolation I supplied it by observing: 'To be sure, there are different kinds of love.' 'Indeed!' exclaimed Jessie tantalisingly. 'Is it like uncle Bryan's sugar, of different shades and different degrees of sweetness? Some of it tastes very sandy, Chris.' 'Ah, now you are joking, Jessie!' 'I am not in a joking humour. I want to speak seriously. Chris, I have sometimes wondered that you have never asked me questions about myself.' 'In what way, Jessie?' 'About myself, before I came here. When one likes any one very much, one is naturally curious to know all about one.' 'I had my reasons, Jessie. When you first came, mother wished me not to ask you any questions. She said it would be like an attempt to steal into uncle Bryan's confidence. He might have secrets, she said, which he would not wish us to know.' 'Secrets!' she mused. 'What can I have to do with them? And yet, it is strange, now I think about it.' 'I should like you to tell me all about yourself,' I said; 'it doesn't matter now that you have spoken of it first yourself.' 'I was thinking of a secret that I have, Chris.' I composed myself to receive her confidence. 'But I don't know what it is myself, yet. It is in a letter; perhaps----' 'Well, Jessie?' 'Perhaps nothing. It is only a letter that I am not to open until I am eighteen years of age. That will not be long, Chris. We will wait until then, and then I will tell you all I know. Let us blow it away till that time comes.' She blew a light breath. 'I wanted to make you a present on your birthday, but I did not have money enough then. Shall I give it to you now?' I held out my hand eagerly, and Jessie took from her pocket a small card-box. 'It is in this. What do you think it is?' I made a great many guesses, but she shook her head merrily at all of them. 'I went to look at it every day in the shop-window, afraid that some one might buy it before I had saved up money enough.' I opened the box, and took from it a small silver locket, heart-shaped, with the words engraven on it, 'To Chris, with Jessie's love.' Unspeakable happiness dwelt in my heart as I gazed upon the emblem. As I held it in my hand tenderly, it seemed to me a living link between Jessie and me--an undying assurance of her love. Nothing so precious had ever been mine. My looks satisfied Jessie, and she clapped her hands in delight. 'So you like it, Chris?' 'I will never, never part with it, Jessie. But I want a piece of ribbon; may I have that piece round your neck? 'Take it off yourself, Chris.'