'You ought to get advice, mother. Promise me.'
'I will, my dear; but it is nothing. I am not growing younger, Chris.'
'You were speaking of Jessie, mother.'
'Yes, my dear. I was about to say that Jessie has no one to look after her but me.'
'And me,' I added proudly.
'And you, my dear. I know what your feelings are towards her, but you are away at your work all the day, and then the duty devolves upon me alone.'
'Well, mother?'
'Jessie is a little different to me from what she was; I am beginning to think--sorely against my will, dear child--that she mistrusts me. I know that she is not happy, but I could comfort her if she would let me. It might be better for all of us if she would confide in me.'
'I am sure it would be, mother.'
'She does not repulse me, Chris; she avoids me. When I have it in my mind to speak to her seriously, she seems to know what I am about to say--she is very bright and clever, my dear--and she obstinately refuses to listen; runs away, or turns me from my purpose by some means. I am very anxious about her.'