On the morning with which our story opens, Mrs. Hapley had bidden her daughter farewell, and started for the home of her parents. It was not without a strange sinking of heart, and eyes blurred with tears, that Jessie took leave of her mother and her old home; but nothing of this was visible on her countenance, now. She was apparently as calm and cheerful as any of those around her.
The family of which Jessie had now become an inmate, comprised the following named persons: Mrs. Page, who was the widow of a sea-captain; her sister, Miss Fanny Lee, usually called Aunt Fanny; Marcus, Mrs. Page’s son, a young man in his nineteenth year, who had just served his first term as assistant teacher in the academy, of which he was a graduate; Ronald, an adopted son of Mrs. Page, about twelve years old; and Oscar Preston, a nephew of Mrs. Page, in his sixteenth year, who came to live with the family the previous fall. They lived upon a small farm, in one of the pleasant hill towns of Vermont, which we shall call Highburg.
Jessie at once began to busy herself with various household duties, taking hold almost as handily as though she had been at home. Knowing that constant occupation is a great security against desponding thoughts, Mrs. Page was careful to provide her with something to employ her time. It was “washing day,” and of course there was no lack of work. In the course of the forenoon, Ronald came in, with his arms full of rope and bunting, and exclaimed:
“There, mother, I’ve got my flag, at last. But just see how dirty it is. Can’t you wash it, right off, so I can have it all bright and clean for to-morrow?”
“Our washing is done, and on the line, and the suds are thrown away; so you had better let it be till next Monday,” replied Mrs. Page.
“But who wants to hang up such a dirty thing as that on Washington’s birth-day?” continued Ronald. “We’ve got our staff almost ready, and we want to raise our flag to-morrow morning; but it’s all soiled, and dingy—and here’s a big rip in it, too. Why, mother, haven’t you got any patriotism at all? I should think you’d consider it an honor to wash the stains out of your country’s flag.”
Mrs. Page smiled at this sally, but did not accede to Ronald’s request.
“Couldn’t I wash it out for him, Mrs. Page?” inquired Jessie.
“You can, if you choose to,” was the reply.
“That’s right, Jessie—you ought to have three cheers for your patriotism, and I’ll give ’em to you to-morrow, when I hoist the flag,” said Ronald, as Jessie commenced preparations for the work.