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'Indeed you can do nothing less,' said one of the women who had followed Jessy.

'Was it him that did it?' asked Mrs. Grey, in a voice of kindling anger.

'Deed was it,' replied the other, 'flinging coals about among the folk, -- that's charity!'

Mrs Grey then burst forth, scolding and calling the man by every opprobrious name her fury supplied. Poor Jessy, though apparently in very great pain, entreated her mother to be quiet, assuring her that the man was not in the least to blame: but Mrs. Grey would not listen, and the man, at last, after hearing in silence every sort of abuse, felt himself growing angry, and, turning to Jessy, said, 'I am sorry for what has happened to you. I have offered what I could to make up for my part in it, but I see I can be of no use among such a set of -----' He stopped, and did not allow his anger to get the better of him; then pushing the scolding women out of his way, left the house.

When Jessy's leg was examined, it was found that the sharp edge of the coal had made a frightfully deep wound. All round this wound appeared much bruised, and was now swelled and black. Each of the women present recommended a different manner of dressing the wound. Poor Jessy entreated that it might be bound up, and she left in peace. She felt sick and faint from pain, and the talking and disputes around her were most distressing. At last it was agreed, that it should be done up in soap and sugar. This dressing, applied on a coarse rag, and bound with others of the same description, and far from clean, was at last finished, and the people went away. Mrs. Grey went out also to tell all that had happened to a neighbour who had not been present. Jessy was at last left in peace, and immediately her thoughts turned to that God whose presence always seemed to return to her soul when she was left alone. Hitherto, when she had thought of God, it had been with feelings of thankfulness. She had constantly been able to say to herself. 'God is my best friend. He has, indeed, been to me a 'father of the fatherless.' Whatever good I have received, has either been through his servants, and done for his sake, or from my Saviour himself, guiding me in the paths of righteousness, and thus procuring for me favour, and imparting happiness and peace.' Now poor Jessy was at a loss. She thought of God, but her heart filled, and she could only weep. 'Had God forsaken her?' Jessy did not yet know that the children of God must learn to trust in him at all times, both when his dispensations give them joy, and when he sees fit to chasten and to try them. Jessy's Bible was always kept in a little chest close by her bed. She now took it out and opened it to look for a text which came into her mind; but the exertion of stretching out of her bed made her leg so excessively painful, that, for a little, she could attend only to it. When it got somewhat less uneasy, she began her search, and after some time spent in it, she found the text she wanted. It was this, 'Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?' Jessy read the account given of Job's afflictions, and wondered how little she had ever cared to read it before. When she had read of all that the Lord suffered to happen to this still beloved, and highly approved of servant, she almost smiled on remembering that a few minutes before she had thought God had forsaken her, because he had suffered her to fall into a comparatively trifling affliction. Her mind became calm and easy, and when the mind is so, pain is not half so ill to bear. When we can say, 'It is my God, my Father, my Refiner, who has sent this in order to purify my soul, and prepare me for himself, we can much more easily endure the sharpest suffering, and feel willing to love and kiss the hand that afflicts us for our good. We know that he 'does not afflict willingly, but because it is necessary for us.

During some days Jessy was subjected to a great deal of suffering, from the manner in which her mother showed her anxiety for her recovery. To every person who came in; she must uncover and show poor Jessy's wound. Thus the dressing was taken off many times in a day. Besides this, a great variety of remedies were tried, so that at the end of a week, Jessy was in greater pain than she had been even at first. This continued for some time longer, till at last the wound assumed a very unfavourable appearance, and Thomas Grey, who had, while serving as a soldier, himself been wounded, and confined to an hospital, and by that means knew what were considered bad symptoms, went himself to the Dispensary, and begged a doctor to come and visit his step-daughter. Had this been done at first, poor Jessy might have been saved much. When the doctor came and saw the wound, he seemed really sorry for Jessy, -- said she must be suffering dreadfully; and when she answered him with a smile on her now pale, young face, that she did not always suffer very much, he turned away quite moved. He looked for an instant round the disorderly apartment, into which two women had followed him, from curiosity, to hear what he would prescribe, and then said in a low voice to Jessy, 'I am sure you cannot be properly attended to or kept quiet here; would you have any objection to go to the Infirmary?'