"Yes, that there has," said Taffy, "but how can I prove it? Someone with a red beard stole the piece of beef from the butcherman, and then they said it was I. But I was never near his place, nor did I lay hands on meat or marrow-bone."
At that moment there came a loud knocking at the front door, and when the little Welshwoman opened it, whom should she find but the butcherman himself!
"See what I have brought to you," he said, holding up a false red beard. "I found this to-day behind a barrel in my shop. It's like your Taffy's beard." At this the little Welshwoman opened her eyes very wide and tried to speak, but she was so surprised she couldn't.
When the butcher went to say that perhaps the man who wore this beard was the one who had stolen his beef, the little Welshwoman began to cry softly, and the big butcher, who had a kind heart, said, "Don't cry, my good woman, I don't think now your Taffy stole the beef, and that's the reason I've come all the way up here to show you this beard. So you tell Taffy that I shall tell everybody in town that it wasn't he who stole my beef, but some thief who wore a red beard: and then, I'll show them what I found in my shop, and that will prove what I say. Everybody will be glad to know that Taffy isn't to blame."
As soon as the butcher had gone, she flew upstairs to tell Taffy the good news. And it almost made Taffy cry. If he hadn't been a man, he would have. But it was hard work not to, just the same. "My head feels better already," he said with a laugh that had a big catch in it.
"Take off the bandages, little woman. I'll come down to supper, and these two small friends of ours shall spend the night with us, for they have brought us good luck to-day, that they have."