Didn't I tell
you not to get over walls in your best dress? _Ann Lizy Jennings, where
is my bead bag?_"
"I--lost it."
"Lost my bead bag?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"How did you lose it, eh?"
"I lost it when--I was lookin' for--my patchwork."
"Did you lose your patchwork?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"When?"
"When I was--goin' over to--Jane's."
"Lost it out of the bag?"
Ann Lizy nodded, sobbing.
"Then you went to look for it and lost the bag. Lost your best
pocket-handkerchief, too?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Old Mrs. Jennings stood looking at Ann Lizy.
"All that patchwork, cut out and basted jest as nice as could be, your
best pocket-handkerchief and my bead bag lost, and your meetin' dress
tore," said she; "well, you've done about enough for one day. Take off
your things and go up-stairs to bed. You can't go over to Jane Baxter's
again for one spell, and every mite of the patchwork that goes into the
quilt you've got to cut by a thread, and baste yourself, and to-morrow
you've got to hunt for that patchwork and that bag till you find 'em, if
it takes you all day. Go right along."
Ann Lizy took off her hat and climbed meekly up-stairs and went to bed.
She did not say her prayers; she lay there and wept. It was about
half-past eight, the air coming through the open window was loud with
frogs and katydids and whippoorwills, and the twilight was very deep,
when Ann Lizy arose and crept down-stairs.
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