In the afternoon, Charity and Hope were to leave Faith's presents at the Hall, and she herself staggered up to Timothy's cottage with her big brown paper parcel.
She would allow nobody to carry the coat but herself. It was a bright, frosty afternoon; the woods looked black and silent. In the distance, Faith heard the church bells pealing out. Aunt Alice had gone to help in the decorations at the church. When Faith reached the cottage she found Timothy had just come in. He was hanging up his old coat on a nail behind the door, and turned round with a pleased smile when he saw who it was.
"Come right in, Missie. Eh! 'Tis good to see ye lookin' up agin! Sit ye down now. There be Sandy waitin' to shake hands wi' ye!"
Faith breathlessly held out her big parcel.
"For you, Timothy, with my love and a happy Christmas. I bought it for you myself with some of the money I told you about. Do try it on and see how it fits!"
Timothy slowly undid the parcel. When he unfolded the thick coat, he looked at her with his slow, sweet smile:
"Well, I never did! This beats me altogether. 'Tis fit for the king hisself. However am I to thank you big enough, Missie?"
"Put it on! Put it on!" cried Faith, dancing up and down in her excitement. "I'll help you, Timothy."
So between them, they got Timothy into the coat, and he pronounced it a "perfect fit."
"My last new coat was twelve years agone!" he said.