After dinner Jessie went to her room and sat awhile, on a cricket with her head leaning on a chair. She was thinking. I cannot tell you exactly what passed in her mind, while she was in that brown study, because she never told me. You can guess, however, when I tell you that after thinking some five minutes, she rose up, and going to her table, took a pencil and wrote these words in big letters, on a sheet of note paper:

“I will not go out to play again until I have finished my quilt. This is my strong resolution, and I mean to keep it, in spite of the little wizard that tempts me so. He has beaten me a great many times, but he shan’t do it again, as true as my name is Jessie Carlton.”

Taking the paper from the table, Jessie held it between her finger and thumb, read it, and then left the room, saying to herself—

“There, that’s a good resolution. I’ll keep it in sight all the time; and if the little wizard comes near me, I’ll spear him with it just as Uncle Morris says the fairies pierce the gnats with their bodkins. Let me see. How long will it take to finish my quilt? Only two more rows of squares to sew on. Well, I can sew one row this afternoon and the other to-morrow morning. Oh good! I’ll ask ma to get it into the quilting-frame to-morrow afternoon, and have it finished while I work the slippers. Won’t it be nice if the quilt and slippers are both ready by Christmas! Perhaps I can get the watch-pocket done too. Well, I’ll try, see if I don’t. I can conquer little Impulse if I try, and I will. You shall see if I don’t, you dear, good Uncle Morris, you.”

All this was said as Jessie walked down-stairs. She looked very pleasantly, and trod the carpet with a very firm step, as she went to her cosy little chair in front of the bright fire which glowed in the grate that November afternoon. She was slightly chilled through sitting in her chamber, but without stopping to get warm, she took up her work, and began to ply her needle in good earnest.

Half an hour passed and Jessie was still busy as a bee over her quilt. Then her uncle entered the room with his outside coat nicely buttoned up to his chin, and his hat in his hand. He was equipped for a walk.

“Jessie, will you take a walk with your poor old uncle this fine afternoon?” said he.

This was offering one of the strongest of possible temptations to Jessie. A walk with Uncle Morris was to her a very great pleasure. Impulse whispered “Let the quilt go, and accept your uncle’s offer!” Jessie’s arms were even put forth in the act of dropping her work, when her eye rested on her written resolution, which she had pinned on the top edge of the work-basket. “I will finish my quilt,” said she down in her heart. Then putting her work back into her lap, and looking up at her uncle, who was a little puzzled by her unusual manner, she said—

“I thank you, Uncle, but I can’t go this afternoon.”

“Not go! What does my little puss mean?” exclaimed Uncle Morris, greatly surprised that his niece should decline his invitation.

Jessie took the paper from the basket, gave it to him, and, while a loving smile played round her lips, said—

“Please, Uncle, read this.”

The old gentleman put on his spectacles, glanced at the paper, and, as he gave it back to her, smiled, and said—

“Ha, ha, I see! going to run the little wizard through the heart with the spear of Resolution! Very good. I would rather see you conquer your enemy, my dear Jessie, than to have your company, much as I love it. So good-by, and may the Great Teacher help you to keep your resolution!”

“Good-by, Uncle!”

I can’t tell you how happy Jessie felt at having resisted this strong temptation. A warm current of joy flowed through her heart, and bore away all regret which thinking on the loss of a pleasant walk might have otherwise caused her to feel. Her eyes sparkled with delight. Her fingers almost flew, and the quilt gained in size very fast.

But fifteen minutes more had not passed, when Emily and Charlie bounced into the room.

“We want you to play with us,” said Emily. “We are tired of playing together without company, and want you.”

“I want you to play horses. I’ve got some twine for a pair of reins, and you two girls will make a capital span. Come, hurry up, Jessie!” said Charlie, who had got over his ducking in the brook, and was as rude and ready for mischief as ever.

“I’m very sorry,” replied Jessie, “but I can’t go with you. I must sew on my quilt till tea-time.”

“Must, eh! Who says you must?” replied Emily with a sneer.

“I have made a resolution to punish myself for going out this morning when I ought to have stayed in,” said Jessie, firmly.

“Pooh,” said Charlie, “that’s all nonsense. She is too proud to play with us. She is a regular Miss Stuckup, and I won’t own her for my cousin any more;” and with this hard speech the boy left the parlor, walking backwards, and making mouths as he went.

“I do think you ought to play with us, Jessie,” said Emily. “You know we have only one day more to spend with you, and it’s very unkind of you to stay in here and leave me to amuse myself as best I can. As to your resolution, I s’pose you made it on purpose, because you didn’t want to play with us.”

This unkind speech made Jessie feel very badly. She doubted for a moment whether she had not erred in making her resolution before her cousins went home. She felt inclined to drop her work, and go out with her very ungracious cousins. But her second thoughts assured her that it was her first duty to conquer the habit which had caused her so much trouble. So looking with moistening eyes at her cousin, she replied—

“I’m sorry, Emily, that I cannot go out with you, but I really can’t do it. You know my ma requires me to spend my mornings in sewing or reading. I went out this morning without thinking, and without asking her consent. To make up for that, I must sew this afternoon. This evening and to-morrow afternoon, I will play with you as much as you please.”

“I say you are a very ugly creature, and I don’t like you one bit,” retorted Emily, as with pouting lips and flashing eyes she bounced from the room, slamming the door with a loud noise as she went out.

Poor Jessie felt wounded, and the big tears would flow from her eyes in spite of her efforts to restrain them. Smarting under the cruel words of her cousin, she felt an impulse to follow her, but again her eyes fell on the paper, and she resumed her work, saying to herself—

“Jessie Carlton, you must not mind the hard speeches of your cousins. Your resolution is right and good. Uncle Morris said so. Stick to it then, and by the time the quilt and a few other things are done, as Uncle Morris said, the little wizard will find Glen Morris Cottage too hot to hold him. I’ll keep my resolution.”

Just then, smash went some glass somewhere in the rear of the house. The crash was followed by a voice, which Jessie knew to be her cousin’s, saying—

“O Charlie, Charlie! what have you done!”

“I don’t care! It’s only the kitchen window,” was the reply.

Again did Jessie’s impulse move her to put down her work and run out to see what was the matter. But her purpose came to her aid again, and she kept plying her needle and saying:

“No, I won’t go out. It’s only that naughty Charlie throwing stones in at the kitchen window. What a bad boy he is. I’m glad he is going home soon.”

Another quarter of an hour passed without interruption, when the door opened and the bright face of Carrie Sherwood peeped in.

“Why, Carrie Sherwood!” exclaimed Jessie.

“Jessie Carlton!”

“Come in and sit down,” said Jessie.

Carrie stepped in but did not sit down. “I’ve come,” she said, “to invite you and your cousins to spend the afternoon, and to take tea at our house. Ma says that since no harm came to Charlie from his ducking, she would like to have you come as you meant to do before he fell into the brook.”

“I can’t go with you till nearly tea-time,” replied Jessie.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.”

“But why can’t you?”

“Because I’ve resolved to sew on this quilt until tea-time,” said Jessie; and pointing to the paper she added, “see! there is my resolution.”

Carrie read the paper and laughed. “Well, you are a queer girl, Jessie Carlton. You tie yourself up with a resolution nobody asks you to make, and then say you can’t move.”

“But I made the resolution because I thought it was right,” said Jessie, solemnly.

“Oh! did you? Well, that alters the case, I suppose. But please break it for once; only this once, just to please me, you know. Come, there’s a dear, good Jessie; do come over to my house this afternoon.”

Oh! how Jessie did long to drop her sewing, and go with her friend. There was a mighty struggle in her heart for a few moments; but her purpose triumphed at last, and in a calm, firm voice, she replied:

“No, dear Carrie, not until nearly dark. I must finish my quilt to-morrow morning. You go and get my cousins and take them with you. I will come over just as soon as it is too dark to see to sew without a light; and that won’t be a great while, you know, this short afternoon.”

Carrie saw that her friend’s mind was made up. So turning to leave the room she said:

“Well, I suppose you are right; but mind you come as early as you can.”

“That I will,” rejoined Jessie.

Carrie left the room. The next moment she pushed the door open again, and peeping in, said,

“Jessie?”

“Well, dear, what is it?”

“Ask your ma to let you stay till half-past nine, will you?”

“Yes.”

“Good-by.”

“Good-by till dark,” replied Jessie, laughing at the idea of her friend bidding her good-by just for an hour.

Jessie now felt very strong in her purpose. She had resisted no less than four temptations to yield to her impulses in about an hour and a half. This was doing nobly, and Jessie felt more self-respect than she had ever felt before. She was certainly doing battle in real earnest with her old enemy, the little wizard, as Uncle Morris facetiously called him. And she had her reward for all her self-denial in the glad feelings which bubbled up in her heart like springs of water in some cosy mountain nook.

Nothing else came to tempt Jessie the remainder of that afternoon. She sewed until it was too dark to see in front of the fire; then she took her seat close to the window, and it was not until she could no longer see to take a stitch neatly that she began to put up her work.

“One more morning will finish it,” said she, after taking a glance at her work. “Oh! how glad I shall be when I have taken the last stitch. And won’t I be glad when it comes out of the quilting-frame, and is spread upon Uncle Morris’s bed. It’s been a long time doing—Oh! ever so long—thanks to the little wizard. But little wizard, little wizard, go away! go away! We don’t want you any longer in Glen Morris Cottage.”

In this cheerful mood Jessie tied on her hood and cloak, and tripped over to Carrie Sherwood’s, where she spent one of the pleasantest evenings she had enjoyed since the coming of her cousins to Duncanville. For some reasons unknown to me, it pleased that selfish brother and sister to put on their best and most approved behavior. Perhaps they caught a ray or two of the joy which beamed, like sunshine, from Jessie’s heart.

The next morning after breakfast, filled with the idea of finishing the quilt before dinner, Jessie found a parcel in her work-basket directed to Miss Jessie Carlton.

“What can it be?” said she, as she hastily untied the string, and unfolded the wrapping-paper.

“A pair of ladies’ skates! Oh, how glad I am! I wonder who sent them. Oh! here is a piece of paper. What does it say?”

Holding the paper to the light she read as follows:

“From a fond father to his beloved daughter.”

“From pa! Oh, how good of him! It’s too bad he didn’t stop to let me thank him. But I’ll thank him to-night. I’ve been wishing all this fall for a pair of skates, because all the girls are going to have them. Suppose I just step out and try them a little while.”

Thus did Jessie talk out her thoughts to herself. Thus did the impulse come over her to leave her morning’s duty and repeat the fault of the day before. It was fortunate, perhaps, that her cousins, knowing she meant to sew, had rushed off to find a slide before she discovered her new skates. Their persuasions, joined to her own impulse, might have overcome her and brought her into bondage to the little wizard again. Without their presence, I confess, the temptation to try the skates was a very strong one. Jessie was getting ready to go out when her eye fell on the paper which was still pinned to the basket’s edge. She paused, blushed, put down the skates, and said aloud:

“No, no, little wizard, I won’t obey you. The quilt shall be finished, and the skates shall wait until the afternoon.”

“Three cheers for my little conqueror!” shouted Uncle Morris, who, coming in at that moment, overheard this last remark.

“O uncle! I was almost conquered myself,” said Jessie.

“Never mind that, for now you are quite a conqueror,” rejoined her uncle, smiling and patting her head.

Need I say that the quilt was finished that morning? It was; and before Jessie sat down to dinner, she had the pleasure of seeing it put into the quilting-frame by Maria, the seamstress of the household. And thus did our sweet little Jessie win her first really decisive victory over the little wizard which had hitherto been to her like the fisherman’s wife, Alice, in the fairy tale—the plague of her life.