were as long as the Green
Mountains. She calculated again and again how little time she would have
to play with Jane--only about an hour, for she must allow a half-hour
for tea. She was not a swift sewer when she sewed fine and even
stitches, and she knew she could not finish those squares before four
o'clock. One hour!--and she and Jane wanted to play dolls, and make
wreaths out of oak-leaves, and go down in the lane after thimbleberries,
and in the garden for gooseberries--there would be no time for anything!

Ann Lizy's delicate little face under the straw flat grew more and more
sulky and distressed, her forehead wrinkled, and her mouth pouted. She
forgot to swing her muslin delaine skirts gracefully, and flounced
along hitting the dusty meadowsweet bushes.

Ann Lizy was about half-way to Jane Baxter's house, in a lonely part of
the road, when she opened her bead bag and drew out her
pocket-handkerchief--her grandmother had tucked that in with the
patchwork--and wiped her eyes. When she replaced the handkerchief she
put it under the patchwork, and did not draw up the bag again, but went
on, swinging it violently by one string.

When Ann Lizy reached Jane Baxter's gate she gave a quick, scared glance
at the bag. It looked very flat and limp. She did not open it, and she
said nothing about it to Jane. They went out to play in the garden.
There were so many hollyhocks there that it seemed like a real
flower-grove, and the gooseberries were ripe.

Shortly after Ann Lizy entered Jane Baxter's house a white horse and a
chaise passed down the road in the direction from which she had just
come. There were three persons in the chaise--a gentleman, lady, and
little girl. The lady wore a green silk pelerine, and a green bonnet
with pink strings, and the gentleman a blue coat and bell hat. The
little girl had pretty long, light curls, and wore a white dress and
blue sash. She sat on a little footstool down in front of the seat.
They were the parson's wife's sister, her husband, and her little girl,
and had been to visit at the parsonage. The gentleman drove the white
horse down the road, and the little girl looked sharply and happily at
everything by the way. All at once she gave a little cry--"Oh, father,
what's that in the road?"

She saw Ann Lizy's patchwork, all four squares nicely pinned together,
lying beside the meadowsweet bushes. Her father stopped the horse, got
out, and picked up the patchwork.

"Why," said t