When Jessie got to her place by the signpost, her grandfather was just coming along the road towards her.  In his hand he held a big bunch of white roses and beautiful dark-green leaves.  “Oh, how lovely!” gasped Jessie, when she caught sight of them.

“They’m ‘Seven Sisters,’” said her grandfather; “they had overgrown the other things so much that I had to cut them back, and her ladyship told me to bring them home to you.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Jessie delightedly.  “What are the seven sisters called, granp?  What is their real name?  Of course they must have names.”

Her grandfather did not understand her for the moment.  “What are they called!  Why, Rose, of course; but ‘Seven Sisters’ is what they’re always known by.”

“There couldn’t be seven all called ‘Rose,’ could there?” asked Jessie gravely.  “They must have a name each.  Let me see, one could be ‘White Rosie,’ another ‘Pink Rosie,’ then there could be ‘Red Rosie,’ and ’Rosamund ’; that’s four.”

“Perhaps the others is Cabbage Rosie, Dog Rosie, and Cider Rosie,” said grandfather, chuckling.

Jessie burst into a peal of laughter as she thrust one hand into her grandfather’s.  “What things you do say, granp,” she protested, and clasping her bouquet in her other hand, she skipped along by the old man’s side.  “Oh, I have learnt such a lot of things to-day,” she said impressively.  “There’s one rose called ‘Mr. Richardson,’ another called ‘Miss Perkins,’ and another called ‘Plain Homer,’ and now there’s ‘Seven Sisters,’ all with different names.”  Then she told him all about the toad, and the little story Miss Grace had read to her.  “And to-morrow I am to learn to knit, and soon I’ll be able to knit your stockings, granp, and cuffs to keep your arms warm in winter, and a shawl for granny.”

“My!” exclaimed grandfather, with pleased surprise, “we shan’t know ourselves, we shall be so warm and comfortable.  But don’t you go overworking yourself, little maid.”  Jessie laughed gleefully.  She loved to think of all she was going to do for her grandfather and grandmother.

“Oh no,” she said.  “You see, I am very strong, and I like to have lots to do.”

And “lots” she did do, in her staid, old-fashioned way.  “I don’t know whatever I should do without Jessie,” granny would often remark to grandfather as the months went by, and Jessie became more and more useful about the house.

“It puzzles me to know how we ever got on before she came,” grandfather would answer; and, as time went by, and Jessie grew taller and stronger and more and more capable, they wondered more and more frequently how they could ever have managed without her.