Four months in the county jail, was the sentence passed upon Sam Hapley, Jessie’s oldest brother, for a robbery which he committed in a neighboring town. Sam entered upon his imprisonment during the last week of the year, and his sentence had now expired. Those were four very long and weary months to the boy-prisoner, but he could scarcely realize the change they had brought about in his once happy home. Since the key first turned upon him in his little cell, his youngest brother, the flower and pet of the household, had been carried to his long home, and was soon followed by his father, who met with an awful fate one winter’s night, while he was stupefied with liquor. The rest of the family had been scattered, strangers gathered around the fireside where they used to meet, and not one of them could now claim a home.

A few days before Sam’s release from jail, Jessie wrote to him an affectionate letter, inviting him, in behalf of Mrs. Page and Marcus, to come and see them, before going elsewhere, and promising him a kind reception. His mother had also written to him, informing him that she had the promise of a good situation for him on a farm, in the town where she was living, and urging him to come to her at once, on his discharge from jail. Sam did not reply to either of these letters; but the day after the expiration of his sentence, just as the academy bell was ringing for the afternoon session, a little boy put into the hands of Jessie a note, which he said a strange young man, whom he met in the woods, had asked him to deliver. It was faintly written with a lead pencil, and was dirty and crumpled; but she soon ascertained that it was from Sam, and that it contained a request for her to meet him, that afternoon, at a certain retired spot on the banks of Round Hill Pond. It also apprised her that she must come alone, if she wished to see him.

Jessie at once got excused from her afternoon duties, and proceeded to the spot indicated in the note. She seated herself on a certain large, flattish stone, near the pond, as directed, and in a few minutes her brother emerged from a thicket close by. She embraced him with the warm affection of a sister, but his greeting was rather cool, and he kept glancing about with suspicious eye, as if expecting to see some unwelcome face peering out from behind a tree or rock. Sam had changed but little in appearance, since Jessie last saw him. He was a trifle taller, and seemed less bold and frank than formerly; and the coarse, sensual and vulgar expression which his countenance had for several years been assuming, was more painfully apparent than ever. He looked well and hearty, however, and was evidently the same Sam Hapley that he had always been.

Jessie made it her first business to endeavor to persuade her brother to go with her to Mrs. Page’s. But though she used all her powers of persuasion, he resolutely refused, from first to last, to show himself in town. He said he slept the night previous in an old, unoccupied barn, near the pond, and had a little food, which he had bought with money given to him by the sheriff. He had seen no one who knew him since he came to Highburg, and he intended to leave the town that afternoon, or early the next morning, “to seek his fortune,” as he expressed it. But Jessie could gain no information as to what his purposes really were. The most he divulged was, that he should not accept of his mother’s proposition, nor even go to see her; and he wound up by saying, that he should not have come to see Jessie, only he thought she might be able to let him have a few dollars.

Notwithstanding this cutting remark, and the unfeeling manner in which it was uttered, Jessie would probably have offered her brother assistance, had it been in her power to do so. But she had not a dollar in the world, and she told him so. He then proposed that she should borrow a small sum from Mrs. Page; but Jessie firmly declined to do this, saying that nothing would tempt her to borrow, so long as she had no means for repaying the debt. When Sam found that there was no prospect of his accomplishing his selfish purpose, he seemed in haste to close the interview, that he might at once resume his travels. But Jessie still clung to him, with tears, beseeching him to reconsider his resolution.

“There is poor Henry,” she said; “what will he think, when he finds that you have been here, and gone off, without seeing him?”

“I can’t help it,” replied Sam. “I should like to see him well enough, but I’ve determined I wont show myself in Highburg again, and I wont—so that’s an end of it.”

“And the graves of father and Benny—can you go away without making them one visit?” inquired Jessie, her tears bursting forth afresh.

“I can’t do them any good,” he replied, after a moment’s pause. “Come, it’s of no use to tease so, for I’ve made up my mind to go off this afternoon, and I shall go, whether or no.”

But Jessie did continue to “tease,” and her importunities were at length rewarded by a promise that he would remain there another night, and that he would meet Jessie and Henry at an early hour the next morning, in the burial-ground, which was in a secluded spot.

On her way home, Jessie called at Mr. Allen’s, to get permission for her brother to accompany her in the morning. Henry was at home, for he did not now go to school, Mr. Allen having need of his services on the farm. Jessie did not think it best to say anything about Sam, but merely requested that Henry might be allowed to make an early visit to the graveyard, with her, the next morning. She had been thinking, ever since the snow began to disappear, of planting some young trees or shrubs over the spot where her father and brother were laid; and as the time to transplant trees had now arrived, she determined to perform this act of filial and sisterly affection, in connection with her interview with Sam. Mrs. Allen readily consented to Jessie’s request, and added that her husband would probably furnish them with some young trees suitable for their purpose.

Jessie reached home a little before the rest of the young folks returned from school. Some curiosity was manifested about her sudden disappearance, but she let no one into her confidence except Mrs. Page, to whom she related the adventures of the afternoon. Early the next morning, Jessie departed as quietly as possible, to keep her appointment. She took with her a small package, which Mrs. Page, in the kindness of her heart, had hastily made up for the erring boy. It contained several articles of underclothing, which Marcus had outgrown, and some cold meat, bread, and other substantial provisions for the body.

On arriving at Mr. Allen’s, Jessie found her brother ready for her. Mr. Allen had given him two tall and straight beeches, and Mrs. A. had allowed him to take up a rose-bush and an althea from the front yard. With these on his shoulder, and a shovel, hoe and rake in his hand, he had about as much as he could carry.

“Mr. Allen and his wife are very kind, to give us these,” said Jessie, after they had left the yard.

“I know it,” said Henry; “and I didn’t ask them, either—they did it of their own accord.”

“You seem to like your new home rather better than you did at first,” continued Jessie.

“I like Mrs. Allen a good deal better than I used to—she isn’t cross to me, now,” replied Henry.

“I suppose that is because you try harder to please her than you used to, isn’t it?” inquired Jessie.

“Yes, I suppose it’s partly that,” said Henry; “but I’m sure I haven’t changed any more than she has. She used to scold me, whether I did right or wrong. Now she hardly ever scolds, even when I deserve it.”

“Still, I think you deserve most of the credit for the change,” said Jessie. “If Mrs. Allen was ever cross or unkind to you, I’m satisfied it was because she thought you did not try to please her. I knew it was out of pure kindness to you that she consented to take you, in the first place; and I think she would always have treated you as kindly as she does now, if——but we wont rake over past errors. I’m very glad they’re dead and buried, and I hope they’ll never rise again. And now, whom do you suppose we’re going to see?”

“I didn’t know we were going to see anybody,” replied Henry.

“What should you say, if you should meet Samuel?” inquired Jessie.

“What, our Sam! is he here?” exclaimed Henry, stopping short, and resting his burden upon the ground.

Jessie then related to him the occurrences of the previous afternoon, as they walked on towards the burial-ground. Henry seemed much pleased with the idea of seeing his brother, and hurried along so fast, with his burden, that Jessie could hardly keep up with him.

On reaching the graveyard, as they saw nothing of Sam, they proceeded to the lot where their father and brother were laid, and prepared to set out the trees and shrubs. There was no stone to mark the spot, but Jessie remembered too well the two little gravelly mounds, to need anything to guide her to the locality. Henry threw off his jacket, and went to work in good earnest with his shovel, pausing, every few minutes, to look around in quest of Sam. Jessie, meanwhile, was busy with the hoe and rake, cleaning out and levelling the lot. The holes for the trees required to be large, and as the digging was rather hard, Henry found he had undertaken no trifling task. But he kept steadily at work, hoping, however, that the stronger arm of his brother would soon come, to “spell” him.

The two beeches were at length planted, each near the head of a grave; but Sam had not appeared, though it was half an hour later than the time he had appointed for the interview. Jessie and Henry, though disappointed and dejected, still hoped their brother would appear, thinking that his failure to keep the appointment might be owing to his having no means of telling the exact time of day, where he was. They kept on with their labor, and the shrubs were soon in their places at the foot of the graves, and the whole lot was put in as good order as the time would allow.

But they looked and waited in vain for Sam. He did not appear. After lingering around the burial-ground until it was nearly time for the academy bell to ring, they departed, sadly disappointed, and wondering whether Sam had taken alarm, and left town sooner than he intended, or whether he had agreed to the appointment merely to get rid of the importunities of his sister, and without any idea of keeping his promise. Jessie and Henry felt, however, that they had done a good work, though they had not accomplished the thing for which mainly they set out on their early morning errand.