"Well, I am a spinster, and not so young as I have been. I ought to apologize for not telling you who I was; but it was so very funny to hear you go on in that sober way to my face, I couldn't spoil it," said the girl, with a look that upset John's repentant gravity; and they laughed together as only the young and happy can.
"It is very good of you to take it so kindly, but I assure you it weighed upon my conscience, and it is a great relief to beg pardon," he said, feeling as if they had been friends for years.
"Have you been sketching old things ever since?" asked Dolly, changing the conversation with womanly tact.
"Yes: I went to several places further on, but didn't find any thing half so good as your chair and tankard. I suppose you are taking the relics to town now?"
"All but one."
"Which is that?"
"The pumpkin hood. It is the only thing my step-mother admires among my treasures, and she would not give it up. You rather admired it, didn't you?" asked Dolly, with her demurest air.
"I deserve to be laughed at for my panic," answered John, owning up manfully; then pulled out his sketch-book, with an eye to business even in the middle of a joke.
"See here! I tried to get that venerable hood into my sketch, but couldn't quite hit it. Perhaps you can help me."
"Let me see them all," said Dolly, taking possession of the book with a most flattering air of interest.