'My dear,' said my mother, with a sweet smile, taking Jessie's hand in hers; 'my dear, you forget!' 'Forget what, mother?' asked Jessie; she sometimes addressed my mother thus. 'Am I doing anything wrong?' Even I could not help acknowledging to myself that Jessie, by a literal acceptation of my mother's words, was wilfully misinterpreting the nature and intent of her remonstrance; but I found justification for her. 'Uncle Bryan is the best judge,' said my mother. 'I know he is,' said Jessie. 'Let her go on,' cried uncle Bryan. The old stern look was in his face, and his voice was very harsh. I was the more unhappy, because I alone held the key of the situation. Jessie repeated the question, addressing herself to uncle Bryan. 'Is it not good to go to church?' 'I do not say that,' was his reply. 'But I want you to say one way or the other. It _must_ be either good or bad. You will come with us!' 'I will not come with you.' The high tone in which he spoke put a stop to the discussion, and we finished the breakfast in the midst of an unhappy silence. Indeed, we all seemed too frightened to speak. At the proper time my mother and I were ready for church, and were waiting downstairs for Jessie, whom my mother had left in their room dressing. But Jessie was somewhat more dilatory than usual. My mother went to the stairs, and softly called out, 'Now, my child, be quick, or we shall be late!' It was the first time I had ever heard my mother call Jessie her child, and I pressed her hand fondly for it. She returned the pressure, almost convulsively, and presently Jessie came slowly downstairs. She was dressed with unusual care in a pretty new soft dress, concerning the making of which there had been great excitement; but her head was uncovered. 'Get on your hat quickly, my dear,' said my mother; 'we shall have to walk fast.' 'I am not going to church,' said Jessie, in a low tone, in which I--and I alone, I believe--detected a tremor. 'Jessie!' cried my mother, in a tone of suffering; 'Jessie, my dear child!' She stepped to Jessie's side, trembling from agitation. Jessie stood quite quietly by the table, and repeated, in a tone which she strove in vain to make steady, 'I am not going to church this morning.' Uncle Bryan was in the room, but spoke not a word. 'Are you not well, my dear?' asked my mother. 'I am quite well.' 'Then why will you not come with us?' 'I am not sure that it is right to go to church.' 'My dear, if I tell you that it is' 'Uncle Bryan is older than you--twenty years older--and has had more experience of the world; therefore he must know better than you. If it were right to go to church, he would go, for I am sure he is an upright and just man.' At this direct reference to him uncle Bryan raised his head, and gazed fixedly at Jessie, and at her latter words something like a sneer passed into his face. My mother looked helplessly from one to another.