Having been reared in luxury, poor little Jessie's tastes were all
of the daintiest sort; and her hardest trial, after Laura's feeble
health, was the daily sacrifice of the many comforts and elegances
to which she had been accustomed. Faded gowns, cleaned gloves, and
mended boots cost her many a pang, and the constant temptation of
seeing pretty, useful, and unattainable things was a very hard one.
Laura rarely went out, and so was spared this cross; then she was
three years older, had always been delicate, and lived much in a
happy world of her own. So Jessie bore her trials silently, but
sometimes felt very covetous and resentful to see so much pleasure,
money, and beauty in the world, and yet have so little of it fall to
her lot.

"I feel as if I could pick a pocket to-day and not mind a bit, if it
were a rich person's. It's a shame, when papa was always so
generous, that no one remembers us. If ever I'm rich again, I'll
just hunt up all the poor girls I can find, and give them nice
shoes, if nothing else," she thought, as she went along the crowded
streets, pausing involuntarily at the shop windows to look with
longing eyes at the treasures within.

Resisting the allurements of French slippers with bows and buckles,
she wisely bought a plain, serviceable pair, and trudged away,
finding balm for her wounds in the fact that they were very cheap.
More balm came when she met a young friend, who joined her as she
stood wistfully eying the piles of grapes in a window and longing to
buy some for Laura.

This warm-hearted schoolmate read the wish before Jessie saw her,