The opportunity Jessie yearned for came before long.  One morning her mother had, unexpectedly, to go out very soon after breakfast.

“Jessie,” she said, “I haven’t been able to touch Charlie’s room, more than to make his bed; you must tidy it while I am out.  I shan’t be very long, and there won’t be anything more to do than just keep in the fire in the kitchen.”

Jessie was delighted.  As soon as her mother had gone she mounted to Charlie’s room laden with brush and dustpan, and a bit of rag for a duster.  Charlie looked up in astonishment when she came in, then with delight; he loved to have Jessie doing things for him, she did them so thoroughly and daintily.

“I am going to brush down the cobwebs first,” said Jessie, “at least all that I can reach,” she added thoughtfully, “so put your head right down under the clothes.  I wish I had a dust-sheet, but it can’t be helped, I must do without one.  Now, steady!  I am going to move your bed out from the wall.  One, two, three, and be off!” and with a tug of her strong young arms she truckled the bed out into the middle of the room.  Charlie was enraptured.  He found it impossible to keep his head covered, dust or no dust.

“How funny it looks, and how nice, everything seems different.  Jessie, don’t you think my bed could stay out here?”

“Well, no,” said Jessie, “it would be too much in the way stuck right out in the middle of the room, but I dare say mother wouldn’t mind your having it somewhere else for a change.  We’ll try it, and ask her when she comes in,” and Jessie quickly swept a clear space and pushed the bed back against the wall.

“Oh, that is nice!” said Charlie.  “If I lie on my side a little I can look out of the window and see the houses opposite, and I haven’t got the light shining right in on my eyes as I had before.  It was dreadful when my head was aching.”

“I thought it must be,” said Jessie sympathetically, busily sweeping all the time.  There was a great deal to be done, and she was very anxious to have it all looking nice by the time Mrs. Lang returned.  She ran down with the bits of carpet and beat them, then she dusted the mantelpiece and the furniture, and arranged everything in the room to what, she thought, was the best advantage.  She cleaned the window, too, which was a great improvement to the look of the room.

Charlie was delighted.  “Oh, it is nice!  It looks like a new room, I feel as if I had gone away for a change.  Everything seems different.  Jessie, do go and ask Miss Patch to come and see it, will you?  She’d love to.”

Jessie flew away, willingly enough, and up the stairs until she came to the big attic at the very top of the house, which she knew was Miss Patch’s.  She had not spoken to Miss Patch yet, but she had heard a good deal about her from Charlie, who seemed very fond indeed of her, and often bemoaned the fact that she lived at the very top of the house now, for he very seldom saw her; she was lame and suffered a good deal, and could not get up and down the steep stairs very well, and he could not go up to her.