Willy looked up at his grandmother.  “Grandma,” said he tremblingly, “ain’t we going home to-morrow?”

“Why, bless the child!” said she.  “I forgot he didn’t know.  We talked about it last night after he’d gone to bed.”

Then she explained.  They were going to stay another week.  Next week Wednesday, Grandpa and Grandma Perry had been married twenty-five years, and they were going to have a silver wedding.  So they were going to remain and be present at it, and Grandpa was going to send for his best coat to wear.

Willy looked so radiant that they all laughed, and uncle Frank said he was going to keep him always, and let him help him in the store.

Before they started off to buy the horse, uncle Frank telegraphed to Ashbury about the coat; he also mentioned Willy’s shoes.

The two had a beautiful ride, and bought a handsome black horse.  Uncle Frank consulted Willy a great deal about the purchase, and expatiated on his good judgment in the matter after they got home.  One of Willy’s chief charms was that he stood so much flattery of this kind, without being disagreeably elated by it.  His frank, childish delight was always pretty to see.

The next afternoon he went berrying with a little boy who lived next door.  At five o’clock aunt Annie ran over to the store to see if the coat had come.

“It has,” she told her mother when she returned; “it came at one o’clock, and Mother Perry gave it to Willy to bring home.”

“To Willy?  Why, what did the child do with it?” Grandma said wonderingly.  “He didn’t bring it home.”

“Maybe he carried it over to Josie Allen’s and left it there.”  Josie Allen was the boy with whom Willy had gone berrying.  His house stood very near uncle Frank’s, and both were nearly across the road from the store.

“Well, maybe he did, he was in such a hurry to go berrying,” said Grandma assentingly.

About six o’clock, when the family were all at the tea-table, Willy came clumping painfully in his big shoes into the yard.  There were blisters on his small, delicate heels, but nobody knew it.  His little fair face was red and tired, but radiant.  His pail was heaped and rounded up with the most magnificent berries of the season.

“Just look here,” said he, with his sweet voice all quivering with delight.

He stood outside on the piazza, and lifted the pail on to the window-sill.  He could not wait until he came in to show these berries.  He would have to walk way around through the kitchen in those irritating shoes.

They all exclaimed and admired them as much as he could wish, then Grandma said suddenly:  “But what did you do with the coat, Willy?”

“The coat?” repeated Willy in a bewildered way.

“Yes; the coat.  Did you take it over to Josie’s an’ leave it?  If you did, you must go right back and get it.  Did you?”

“No.”

“Why, what did you do with it?”