The Pot of Gold, and Other Stories Part 21

Everybody had stopped eating, and was staring out at w.i.l.l.y, 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.

w.i.l.l.y 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 fas.h.i.+on 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 w.i.l.l.y.

"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 w.i.l.l.y.

Finally aunt Annie tried her hand. "See here, w.i.l.l.y 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 w.i.l.l.y.

That was dreadful. They all looked aghast at one another. Was w.i.l.l.y lying--w.i.l.l.y!

"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: "w.i.l.l.y, 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 w.i.l.l.y 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.

w.i.l.l.y 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."

But the matter was very far from settled by Mrs. Perry's testimony.

She only repeated what she had already told her daughter-in-law.

"The bundle came on the noon express," said she, "and I told Mr. Perry to set it down in the kitchen, and I would see that it got over to you. He didn't know how to stop just then. It laid there on one of the kitchen-chairs while I was clearing away the dinner-dishes. Then about two o'clock I was changing my dress, when I heard w.i.l.l.y whistling out in the yard, and I ran into the kitchen and got the bundle, and called him to take it. I opened the south door and gave it to him, and told him to take it right home to his grandpa. He said he guessed he'd open it and see if his shoes had come, and I told him 'no,' he must go straight home with it."

That was Mrs. Perry's testimony. w.i.l.l.y heard in the presence of all the family; then when the question as to the whereabouts of the coat was put to him, he made the same answer. He also repeated that Grandma Perry had not given it to him.

"Don't you let me hear you tell that wicked lie again," said his Grandma Stockton. She was nearly as much agitated as the boy. She did not know what to do, and n.o.body else did.

Grandpa Perry came over with three sticks of twisted red and white peppermint candy, and three of barley. He caught hold of w.i.l.l.y and swung him on to his knee. He was a fleshy, jolly man.

"Now, sir," said he, "let's strike a bargain--I'll give you these six whole sticks of candy for your supper, and you tell me what you did with Grandpa's coat."

"I--didn't do--any"--w.i.l.l.y commenced between his painful sobs, but his grandmother interrupted--"Hus.h.!.+ don't you ever say that again," said she. "You did do something with it."

"I'll throw in a handful of raisins," said Mr. Perry. But it was of no use.

"Well, if the little chap was mine," said Mrs. Perry finally, "I should give him his supper and put him to bed, and see how he would look at it in the morning."

"I think that would be the best way," chimed in aunt Annie eagerly.

"He's all tired out and hungry, and doesn't know what he does know--do you, dear?"

So she poured out some milk, and cut off a big slice of cake, but w.i.l.l.y did not want any supper. It was hard work to induce him to swallow a little milk before he went upstairs. His grandmother heaved a desperate sigh after he was gone.

"If it was in the days of the Salem witches," said she, "I'd know just what to think; as 'tis, I don't."

"That boy was never known to tell a lie before in his whole life--his mother said so. He never pestered her the way some children do, lyin'; an' as for stealin'--why, I'd trusted him with every cent I've got in the world." That was Grandpa Stockton.

During the next two or three days every inducement was brought to bear upon w.i.l.l.y. He was scolded and coaxed, he was promised a reward if he would tell the truth, he was a.s.sured that he should not be punished.

Monday he was kept in his room all day, and was given nothing but bread and milk to eat. Severer measures were hinted at, but Grandpa Stockton put his foot down peremptorily. "That boy has never been whipped in his whole life," said he, "an' his own folks have got to begin it, if anybody does."

All the premises were searched for the missing coat, but no trace of it was found. The mystery thickened and deepened. How could a boy lose a coat going across a road in broad daylight? Why would he not confess that he had lost it?

Finally it was decided to take him home. He was becoming all worn out with excitement and distress. He was too delicate a child to long endure such a strain. They thought that once at home his mother might be able to do what none of the rest had.

All the others were getting worn out also. A good many tears had been shed by the older members of the company. Poor Mrs. Perry took much blame to herself for giving the coat to the boy, and so opening the way for the difficulty.

"Mr. Perry says he thinks I ought not to have given the coat to him, he's nothing but a child, any way," she said tearfully once.

It was Monday afternoon when w.i.l.l.y was shut up in his room, and all the others were talking the matter over downstairs.

Tears stood in aunt Annie's blue eyes. "He's nothing but a baby,"

said she, "and if I had my way I'd call him downstairs and give him a cookie and never speak of the old coat again."

"You talk very silly, Annie," said Grandmother Stockton. "I hope you don't want to have the child to grow up a wicked, deceitful man."

w.i.l.l.y's grandparents gave up going to the silver wedding. Grandpa had no good coat to wear, and indeed neither of them had any heart to go.

So the morning of the wedding-day they started sadly to return to Ashbury. w.i.l.l.y's face looked thin and tear-stained. Somebody had packed his little bag for him, but he forgot his little cane.

When he was seated in the cars beside his grandmother, he began to cry. She looked at him a moment, then she put her arm around him, and drew his head down on her black cashmere shoulder.

"Tell Grandma, can't you," she whispered, "what you did with Grandpa's coat?"