The elation with which I arose to comply with this generous permission was tempered somewhat by a little haunting sense of meanness. "Still," I reasoned, "when one's home depends on such things as cats, dogs, and chickens, one cannot take account of stock too often. Besides, Jessie likes to mend, at least I've never heard her say she does not, but I have heard her say that she doesn't like to tend poultry." When I re-entered the house, after conscientiously enumerating every pair of yellow legs on the place, and finding, somewhat to my chagrin, that the tally was the same as that of the previous evening, I found Jessie sitting at the table with her face hidden in her hands. Afraid that she was crying I at first pretended not to notice. We had more than enough cause for tears. I picked up the discarded little dress and, in a spasm of repentance, murmured ostensibly to Ralph, who was playing near the table, but really for Jessie's benefit: "Sister is going to mend the pretty blouse that you tore on the oak bush after she gets this dress done." "'En w'en oo' puts it on me, me do in 'e oak bush an' tear it adain," the child declared, cheerfully. "You naughty boy!" "'Es; me notty boy," with which announcement he went and leaned against Jessie's knees. Jessie looked up; she was not crying, but her face was haggard with pain. "I've got a dreadful toothache," she said, and then I remembered that she had been very restless during the night. "I'm afraid I shall know no peace until it is out," Jessie went on, "and it's half a day's journey to a dentist." "And Joe has taken both the horses to go up into the Jerusalem settlement after that seed-corn, and he can't get back before to-morrow night!" I exclaimed, in consternation. As I sat looking at her with eyes more tearful than her own there came to our ears the welcome sound of wheels, and a wagon stopped at the gate. I sprang up and ran to the door, with some faint hope, for the moment, that Joe had returned. It was not Joe who was sitting immovable on the seat of the light wagon that was drawn up before the gate, but my astonishment would not have been so great if it had been. The small, bronzed-faced, wiry individual who sat still, calmly returning my inquiring gaze was none other than our persevering enemy, Mr. Jacob Horton. I did not fancy our caller, but thinking that he would not have called if he had not some reason for so doing, I walked out and down the path toward him, saying, "Good morning, Mr. Horton." "Mornin', Miss Leslie. Folks all well?" "Not very well; at least, Jessie isn't. She's got a dreadful toothache." "Toothache, eh? That's bad. Nothin' like yankin' out fur an achin' tooth. That's my experience, and you may pass it along to Miss Jessie for what it's worth." "I don't know what good it will do her if I do," I replied, rather irritably, for Jessie was sobbing now, and the sound hurt me almost as much as a physical pain could have done.