Mrs. Carlton drew her closer to her heart, kissed her with great tenderness, and said:
“What has my child done?”
Jessie wept violently, and was silent, for her heart was too full of emotion, to coin its thoughts into words. Mrs. Carlton, like a sensible mother, said nothing until the floods of Jessie’s grief passed away. Then smoothing her head with her hand, she spoke in tones, so soft and lute-like, that they sounded like sweet music in Jessie’s ears, and said:
“Tell me, my dear, what troubles you so much?”
Thus soothed, Jessie raised her head, and said:
“I want Pa and Uncle Morris to hear, too.”
Mr. Carlton laid aside his book, smiled, and said:
Uncle Morris drew his chair close to Jessie, patted her head, and said:
“That’s right, my little puss, make a clean breast of it. Confession is the pipe through which the great Father conducts the guilt of his little ones, when, for his Son’s sake, he buries it in the fountain of forgetfulness.”