"Why," said the parson's wife's sister, "some little girl has lost her
patchwork; look, Sally!"
"She'll be sorry, won't she?" said the little girl, whose name was
Sally.
The gentleman got back into the chaise, and the three rode off with the
patchwork. There seemed to be nothing else to do; there were no houses
near and no people of whom to inquire. Besides, four squares of calico
patchwork were not especially valuable.
"If we don't find out who lost it, I'll put it into my quilt," said
Sally. She studied the patterns of the calico very happily, as they rode
along; she thought them prettier than anything she had. One had pink
roses on a green ground, and she thought that especially charming.
Meantime, while Sally and her father and mother rode away in the chaise
with the patchwork to Whitefield, ten miles distant, where their house
was, Ann Lizy and Jane played as fast as they could. It was four o'clock
before they went into the house. Ann Lizy opened her bag, which she had
laid on the parlor table with the _Young Lady's Annuals_ and _Mrs.
Hemans's Poems_. "I s'pose I must sew my patchwork," said she, in a
miserable, guilty little voice. Then she exclaimed. It was strange that,
well as she knew there was no patchwork there, the actual discovery of
nothing at all gave her a shock.
"What's the matter?" asked Jane.
"I've--lost my patchwork," said Ann Lizy.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69