On her way home, Jessie called at Mr. Allen’s, to get permission for her brother to accompany her in the morning. Henry was at home, for he did not now go to school, Mr. Allen having need of his services on the farm. Jessie did not think it best to say anything about Sam, but merely requested that Henry might be allowed to make an early visit to the graveyard, with her, the next morning. She had been thinking, ever since the snow began to disappear, of planting some young trees or shrubs over the spot where her father and brother were laid; and as the time to transplant trees had now arrived, she determined to perform this act of filial and sisterly affection, in connection with her interview with Sam. Mrs. Allen readily consented to Jessie’s request, and added that her husband would probably furnish them with some young trees suitable for their purpose.
Jessie reached home a little before the rest of the young folks returned from school. Some curiosity was manifested about her sudden disappearance, but she let no one into her confidence except Mrs. Page, to whom she related the adventures of the afternoon. Early the next morning, Jessie departed as quietly as possible, to keep her appointment. She took with her a small package, which Mrs. Page, in the kindness of her heart, had hastily made up for the erring boy. It contained several articles of underclothing, which Marcus had outgrown, and some cold meat, bread, and other substantial provisions for the body.
On arriving at Mr. Allen’s, Jessie found her brother ready for her. Mr. Allen had given him two tall and straight beeches, and Mrs. A. had allowed him to take up a rose-bush and an althea from the front yard. With these on his shoulder, and a shovel, hoe and rake in his hand, he had about as much as he could carry.
“Mr. Allen and his wife are very kind, to give us these,” said Jessie, after they had left the yard.
“I know it,” said Henry; “and I didn’t ask them, either—they did it of their own accord.”
“You seem to like your new home rather better than you did at first,” continued Jessie.
“I like Mrs. Allen a good deal better than I used to—she isn’t cross to me, now,” replied Henry.
“I suppose that is because you try harder to please her than you used to, isn’t it?” inquired Jessie.
“Yes, I suppose it’s partly that,” said Henry; “but I’m sure I haven’t changed any more than she has. She used to scold me, whether I did right or wrong. Now she hardly ever scolds, even when I deserve it.”
“Still, I think you deserve most of the credit for the change,” said Jessie. “If Mrs. Allen was ever cross or unkind to you, I’m satisfied it was because she thought you did not try to please her. I knew it was out of pure kindness to you that she consented to take you, in the first place; and I think she would always have treated you as kindly as she does now, if——but we wont rake over past errors. I’m very glad they’re dead and buried, and I hope they’ll never rise again. And now, whom do you suppose we’re going to see?”