Her grandmother shook her head energetically at her, but old Mrs. White had on her spectacles, and she, too, had spied the square.
"Why, Miss Jennings," she cried, "that's jest like that dress you had so long ago!"
"Let me see," said Sally's mother, quickly. "Why, yes; that is the very square you found, Sally. That is one; there were four of them, all cut and basted. Why, this little girl didn't lose them, did she?"
Then it all came out. The parson's wife was quick-witted, and she thought of the bead bag. Old Mrs. Jennings was polite, and said it did not matter; but when she and Ann Lizy went home they had the bead bag, with the patchwork and the best pocket-handkerchief in it.
It had been urged that little Sally Putnam should keep the patchwork, since she had sewed it, but her mother was not willing.
"No," said she, "this poor little girl lost it, and Sally mustn't keep it; it wouldn't be right."
Suddenly Ann Lizy straightened herself. Her cheeks were blazing red, but her black eyes were brave.
"I lost that patchwork on purpose," said she. "I didn't want to sew it. Then I lost the bag while I was lookin' for it."
There was silence for a minute.
"You are a good girl to tell of it," said Sally's mother, finally.