“I think it is my place to beg your pardon, and not yours to beg mine,” replied Miss Jemima, in the most natural way in the world. “I fear it was largely through me that you ran away from home.”
“Did I actually run away, then?”
“I think there’s little doubt of it. But, whether you ran away or not, the fact remains that my treatment of you had been anything but kind. I meant well, but was mistaken; and I’m thankful to have the opportunity of asking you to forgive me.”
“Don’t say another word about it, auntie!” cried Marian, kissing her once more. “It’s literally all forgotten. And I dare say I was a troublesome little thing. But let me see. You haven’t seen my treasures yet—except the shoe. I’ll fetch them.”
In a few moments she had brought her little sun-bonnet, and the other relics of her childhood which she had preserved. It will not be difficult to imagine the tender interest with which Aunt Jemima, and even “Cobbler” Horn himself, gazed on those simple mementos of the past. The severed bonnet-string was lying on the bed. Marian caught it up, and fitted it upon the bonnet.
“I must sew my bonnet-string on,” she said, gaily.
Her father laughed indulgently, and even Aunt Jemima smiled.
“Ah,” she said, “and I too have a store of treasures to display,” and she told of the little box in which she had kept the tiny garments Marian had worn in the days of old.
“How delicious?” cried the girl. “You will let me see them, by and bye, auntie, won’t you? But now I really must be off to my letters.”