taken her up to her room and shown her the rose-bush, and taken off
her hat and brushed out her hair, and brought her down to tea and
lifted her into her seat at the table, much of her shyness had worn
off, and the sight of the mug with pictures on it, and the little
plate "with words on it," loosened her tongue again, and set it
chattering quite freely.

The meal lasted a long time that night, for Jessie was full of talk,
and neither her "granp," as she already familiarly called him, nor
her granny could bear to interrupt her, especially after she had
slidden down from her high seat at the table, and clambered on to her
grandfather's knee; for to them her presence seemed like some
wonderful dream, from which they were afraid of waking.

At last, though, the little tongue grew quiet, the dark curly head
fell back on granp's shoulder, and then the bright eyes closed.

"I reckon I'd best carry her right up to bed," said Thomas softly.
"If I hand her over to you she'll waken, as sure as anything."

Patience only nodded, she could not speak, her heart was so full, and
rising she followed him up the stairs, carrying the lamp. At the
door of Lizzie's old room she expected him to stop and hand the
sleeping child over to her, but, apparently without remembering what
room it was, he walked straight in, and very tenderly laid his
burthen on the bed. Then, with a glance at the rose-bush on the
sill, he crept softly out and down the stairs again.

Patience stood by her little sleeping grandchild with tears of joy in
her eyes. "She's broke his will," she said gladly, "for her sake