“I—I gave it away, father.”
“Last night? To a beggar?”
“Not—not exactly a beggar.”
“But to someone who needed it badly?”
“Yes, badly. I couldn’t give it to—to them and buy presents as well.” Peter swallowed. He hated lies and would tell the truth at all costs. “And it wasn’t last night. It was this morning.”
His father regarded him gravely. “To someone in the house?”
“Not exactly.”
“I can’t see how it can be both in the house and out of it. It must be exactly one or the other.” Silence. “You don’t want to tell?”
“I can’t tell. But I want to so badly.”
His mother leant out and caught his empty hands, pressing them to her mouth. What a strange little conscience this son of hers had. “I’m sure he did what seemed to him more generous. Now here’s what mother’s got for you.”