mother stood in the doorway watching for her. She had a
blue-yarn stocking in her hands, and she was knitting fast as she
watched.

"Ann Lizy, where have you been, late as this?" she called out, as Ann
Lizy came up the walk. "It's arter six o'clock."

Ann Lizy continued to drag herself slowly forward, but she made no
reply.

"Why don't you speak?"

Ann Lizy crooked her arm around her face and began to cry. Her
grandmother reached down, took her by the shoulder, and led her into the
house. "What on airth is the matter, child?" said she; "have you fell
down?"

"No, ma'am."

"What does ail you, then? Ann Lizy Jennings, how come that great
three-cornered tear in your best dress?"

Ann Lizy sobbed.

"Answer me."

"I--tore it gittin' over--the wall."

"What were you gettin' over walls for in your best dress? I'd like to
know what you s'pose you'll have to wear to meetin' now. 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. She could barely see her way.

There was a candle lighted in the south room, and her grandmother sat
there knitting. Ann Lizy, a piteous littl