“I didn’t do anything with it.”

“William Dexter Norton! what do you mean?”

[Illustration:  “JUST LOOK HERE!” SAID WILLY’S SWEET VOICE.]

Everybody had stopped eating, and was staring out at Willy, who was staring in.  His happy little red face had suddenly turned sober.

“Come in, Sonny, an’ we’ll see what all the trouble’s about, an’ straighten it out in a jiffy,” spoke up Grandpa.  The contrast between Grandpa’s slow tones and the “jiffy” was very funny.

Willy crept slowly down the long piazza, through the big kitchen into the dining-room.

“Now, Sonny, come right here,” said his grandfather, “an’ we’ll have it all fixed up nice.”

The boy kept looking from one face to another in a wondering frightened way.  He went hesitatingly up to his grandfather, and stood still, his poor little smarting feet toeing in, after a fashion they had, when tired, the pail full of berries dangling heavily on his slight arm.

“Now, Sonny, look up here, an’ tell us all about it.  What did you do with Grandpa’s coat, boy?”

“I—­didn’t do anything with it.”

“William,” began his grandmother, but Grandpa interrupted her.  “Just wait a minute, mother,” said he.  “Sonny an’ I air goin’ to settle this.  Now, Sonny, don’t you get scared.  You jest think a minute.  Think real hard, don’t hurry—­now, can’t you tell what you did with Grandpa’s coat?”

“I—­didn’t—­do anything with it,” said Willy.

“My sakes!” said his grandmother.  “What has come to the child?” She was very pale.  Aunt Annie and uncle Frank looked as if they did not know what to think.  Grandpa himself settled back in his chair, and stared helplessly at Willy.

Finally aunt Annie tried her hand.  “See here, Willy dear,” said she, “you are tired and hungry and want your supper; just tell us what you did with the coat after Grandma Perry gave it to you”—­

“She didn’t,” said Willy.

That was dreadful.  They all looked aghast at one another.  Was Willy lying—­Willy!

“Didn’t—­give—­it—­to you—­Sonny!” said Grandpa, feebly, and more slowly than ever.

“No, sir.”

Grandma Stockton had been called quick-tempered when she was a girl, and she gave proof of it sometimes, even now in her gentle old age.  She spoke very sternly and quickly:  “Willy, we have had all of this nonsense that we want.  Now you just speak right up an’ tell the truth.  What did you do with your grandfather’s coat?”

“I didn’t do anything with it,” faltered Willy again.  His lip was quivering.

“What?”

“I—­didn’t”—­began the child again, then his sobs checked him.  He crooked his little free arm, hid his face in the welcome curve, and cried in good earnest.

“Stop crying and tell me the truth,” said Grandma pitilessly.

Willy again gasped out his one reply; he shook so that he could scarcely hold his berry pail.  Aunt Annie took it out of his hand and set it on the table.  Uncle Frank rose with a jerk.  “I’ll run over and get mother,” said he, with an air that implied, “I’ll soon settle this matter.”