“And I’ve never been to Sunday-school, or to church since,” she sobbed.  “Father won’t let me.”

It was to Miss Patch, too, that she sobbed out the story of that dreadful day, and her grief for her grandparents and their suspense.  “It would not be so bad,” she moaned, “if father would Let me write to them and tell them I am well and—­and safe, and—­and not so very unhappy; and I wouldn’t mind so much if I knew how they were, but granny was ill, and I know granp would feel it dreadfully losing me like that and never knowing what had become of me.  They don’t know where I am, or if I am alive or dead, and—­and it has nearly killed them, I expect!” and her tears choked her.

“Will not your father let you write?” asked Miss Patch in a husky voice.  The cruelty of it all made her kind heart ache with pain and indignation.

Jessie shook her pretty head mournfully.  “No.  He says it would unsettle me, and they would be always worrying round, and he wants peace and quietness—­but, oh, Miss Patch, they loved me so, it must have nearly broken their hearts!  And—­and I love them so, I feel sometimes I can’t bear it, I can’t, I can’t.  I feel I must run away and find my way back to them.  I am sure “—­hopefully—­” I could.”

Miss Patch laid her thin hand very kindly on Jessie’s bowed head.  “Don’t ever do that, dear!  Don’t ever set yourself against God’s will.  You are told in the Bible to obey your God and your earthly father, and God must have sent you here for some good purpose, dear.  Perhaps to teach you something we cannot understand yet, perhaps to bring help and happiness to—­to others, to your mother, and dear little Charlie there, and—­and me.

     “God make my life a little staff,
        Whereon the weak may rest,
      That so what health and strength I have
        May serve my neighbours best.

“I think that is what God wants you for, little flower, to help us and bring joy to us in this gloomy corner of the world; and, oh, my dear, you have such chances here.  And if you go on trusting and hoping, little Jessamine, trying to hold the faith that never faileth, all will come right.  I know it will, I am sure.”

Jessie lifted a very eager face to her old friend.  “Do you really think so?” she asked anxiously.

“I am sure of it, dear; quite sure.”

Silence fell on them both for a few moments, then Jessie looked up with a face alight with eagerness.  “Miss Patch, couldn’t I have a little Sunday-school for Charlie, just like granp had for me?  I couldn’t teach him, but I could read to him, and learn hymns with him, couldn’t I?  Don’t you think it would be nice?”

“I think it is a beautiful idea,” agreed Miss Patch warmly.  Then, after a moment, she added, “How would you like it if I had the school, and you both came to me?  I could go down to Charlie’s room, as a rule, but I do believe that sometimes you might both come up to me.  If he were carried up very carefully and laid on my bed I feel sure it would not hurt him, and I think the change of surroundings might even do him good.  What do you think of that plan?” and Miss Patch looked nearly as eager as Jessie by the time she had finished speaking.