“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.  That explains the interest the venerable colored woman took in me.  It is now quite easy to understand; for, if your aunt abused your mythical husband to everybody, as she did to me, I don’t wonder Aunt Patsy thought I was in danger.”

“Poor old woman,” said Annie, looking down at the floor, “I am so glad that we helped her to die happy.”

“As she was obliged to anticipate the truth,” said Lawrence, “in order to derive any comfort from it, I am glad she did it.  But although I am delighted, more than my words can tell you, to take the place of your Mr Null, you must not expect me to have any of his attributes.”

“Now just listen to me, sir,” said Annie.  “I don’t want you to say one word against Mr Null.  If it had not been for that good Freddy, things would have been very different from what they are now.  If you care for me at all, you owe me entirely to Freddy Null.”

“Entirely?” asked Lawrence.

“Of course I mean in regard to opportunities of finding out things and saying them.  If Aunt Keswick had supposed I was only Annie Peyton, she would not have allowed Mr Croft to interfere with her plans for Junius and me.  I expected Mr Null to be of service to me, but no one could have imagined that he would have brought about anything like this.”

“Blessed be Null!” exclaimed Lawrence.

Annie asked him to please to be more careful, for how did he know that one of the servants might not be sweeping the front porch, and of course, they would look in at the windows.

“But, my dear child,” said Lawrence, pushing back his chair to a prudent distance, “we must seriously consider this Null business.  We shall have to inform your aunt of the present state of affairs, and before we do that, we must explain what sort of person Frederick Null, Esquire, really was—­I am not willing to admit that he exists, even as a myth.”