The evening passed very happily with me, Jessie entertaining us with her light talk. Her marvellous ingenuity, in twisting a few simple words so as to make them bear sparkling meanings, afforded me endless enjoyment. Uncle Bryan said very little, and notwithstanding the many challenges she slyly threw out to him, declined to be drawn into battle; but now and then she provoked him to answer her. He needed all his skill to hold his own against her, and he spoke rather roughly to her once or twice. On those occasions she became grave, and edged closer to my mother, having already learned that nothing but what was gentle could emanate from her tender nature. When Jessie went to bed with my mother, she did not hold up her face to be kissed, as she had done on the previous night. I do not think she debated the point with herself, whether she should do so; she gave him a rapid look when she wished him good-night, and decided on the instant--as she would have decided the other way had she seen anything in his face to encourage her. A week passed, and no word of explanation fell from uncle Bryan's lips as to the connection that existed between these two opposite beings; but I could not help observing that he grew more and more reserved, more and more thoughtful. In after days I recognised how strange a household ours really was during this period, but it did not strike me at the time, so entirely was I wrapped up in the new sense of happiness which Jessie Trim had brought into my life. Of the four persons who composed the household only Jessie and I were really happy. My mother was distressed because of uncle Bryan's growing moroseness; with unobtrusive gentleness she strove, in a hundred little ways, to break through the wall of silence and reserve which he built around himself, as it were, but she could scarcely win a word from his lips. It did not trouble me; my mind, was occupied only with Jessie. What Jessie did, what Jessie said, how Jessie looked and felt and thought--that was the world in which I moved now. A second week passed, and there was still no change. One night my mother said that she would come for me on the following evening. 'And bring Jessie,' I suggested, taking advantage of the opportunity which I had been waiting for all the week; 'a walk will do her good.' Jessie's eyes sparkled at the suggestion. 'I should like to come,' she said, with a grateful look; 'I haven't had a walk since I came here. What are you thinking about?' to my mother. 'I am thinking,' replied my mother, 'whether there will be any objection to it.' 'On whose part?' I asked. 'Uncle Bryan's? Why, what objection can he have?' 'I am sure,' said Jessie, he won't care, one way or another; he doesn't care about anything, and especially about me. Why, how many words do you think he has spoken to me all this day, Chris?' 'I can't guess, Jessie.'