“Oh, how nice! Now I can go out in sloppy weather, can’t I, Ma! What a dear, good uncle you are! What made you think of buying me these boots?”
“What made my little puss think of making me a watch-pocket, eh?” replied Mr. Morris: “but come, try on your boots, and let us be going!”
Mrs. Carlton having no fears about the slosh now that Jessie’s feet were “booted,” instead of being “sandalled,” gave her consent, and a few minutes later, Jessie was trotting along at the side of her uncle, in the road which led toward the village. A hired man followed them at a little distance, bearing a large basket well filled with mince-pies, and other Thanksgiving luxuries for the table. Mr. Morris was going to distribute them among certain poor families, to whom he had sent turkeys the day before. It was part of his religion to do what he could to enable the virtuous poor to share in the pleasures proper to Thanksgiving day.
The first cottage at which they called, was a very small one, occupied by Mrs. Clifton and her daughter Madge. Having received proofs in letters from her early friends that her story was true, Uncle Morris had hired this cottage for her, and aided by Mr. Carlton, and a few other kind-hearted men and women in Duncanville, had furnished it, and put her in possession. Mrs. Carlton had interested the village ladies in her case, and they had agreed to keep her supplied with sewing. The poor woman, cheered by voices of kindness, and by the warm sympathies of her generous patrons, had pledged herself to abstain from the drinks which had well nigh ruined her. She had been in her new home for over a week, and was getting along quite cheerily.
When Jessie and her uncle entered, Madge shrunk behind her mother. Ever since the day on which Jessie heard her swear, she had acted as though conscious that there was something between herself and Jessie which kept them apart. I suppose that something was shame on her own part, and a dread of being made wicked by being too intimate with her, on Jessie’s part. But whatever it was, Madge had felt uneasy in Jessie’s presence from that time to the present.
“Well, Mrs. Clifton, how are you getting on?” asked Mr. Morris, after giving her a portion of the contents of the basket, carried by the hired man.
“Pretty well, Sir, I thank you: indeed, Sir, I owe every thing to you, Sir.”
“No, not to me, my good woman, but to God and this child,” said Mr. Morris, pointing to Jessie; “but for her, your Madge would have gone to the alms-house, and you, perhaps, would have been kept in prison. It was to please my niece, here, that I took Madge to our house.”
“A thousand blessings upon the dear child, and upon yourself, too, Sir,” replied the woman with tears in her eyes.
Jessie’s heart sent up gushes of sweet feeling at the sight of Mrs. Clifton’s gratitude. With some trouble she coaxed poor Madge to kiss her; after which she and her uncle left the house.