CHAPTER XXVI.
"Lawrence," said Annie, on the forenoon of the next day, as they were sitting together in the parlor with the house to themselves, Mrs Keswick having gone to Aunt Patsy's cabin to supervise proceedings there, "Lawrence, don't you feel glad that we did not have a chance to speak to dear old Aunt Patsy about those little shoes?
Perhaps she had forgotten that she had stolen them, and so went to heaven without that sin on her soul." "That is a very comfortable way of looking at it," said Lawrence, "but wouldn't it be better to assume that she did not steal them ?" "I am very sorry," said Annie, "but that is not easy to do.

But don't let us think anything more about that.

And, don't you feel very glad that the poor old creature, who looked so happy as she sat singing and clapping her hands on her knees, didn't die until after we had left the church?
If it had happened while we were there, I don't believe--" "Don't believe what ?" asked Lawrence.
"Well, that you now would be sitting with your arm on the back of my chair." Lawrence was quite sure, from what had been told him, that Aunt Patsy's demise had taken place before they left the church, but he did not say so to Annie.

He merely took his arm from the back of her chair, and placed it around her.
"And do you know," said she, "that Letty told me something, this morning, that is so funny and yet in a certain way so pathetic, that it made me laugh and cry both.

She said that Aunt Patsy always thought that you were Mr Null." At this, Lawrence burst out laughing, but Annie checked him and went on; "And she told Letty in church, when she saw us two come in, that she believed she could die happy now, since she had seen Miss Annie married to such a peart gentleman, and that it looked as if old miss had got over her grudge against him." "And didn't Letty undeceive her ?" asked Lawrence.
"No, she said it would be a pity to upset the mind of such an old woman, and she didn't do it." "Then the good Aunt Patsy died," said Lawrence, "thinking I was that wretched tramp of a bone-dust pedler, which the fancy of your aunt has conjured up.