"It has," she told her mother when she returned; "it came at one o'clock, and Mother Perry gave it to Willy to bring home."
"To Willy? Why, what did the child do with it?" Grandma said wonderingly. "He didn't bring it home."
"Maybe he carried it over to Josie Allen's and left it there." Josie Allen was the boy with whom Willy had gone berrying. His house stood very near uncle Frank's, and both were nearly across the road from the store.
"Well, maybe he did, he was in such a hurry to go berrying," said Grandma assentingly.
About six o'clock, when the family were all at the tea-table, Willy came clumping painfully in his big shoes into the yard. There were blisters on his small, delicate heels, but nobody knew it. His little fair face was red and tired, but radiant. His pail was heaped and rounded up with the most magnificent berries of the season.
"Just look here," said he, with his sweet voice all quivering with delight.
He stood outside on the piazza, and lifted the pail on to the window-sill. He could not wait until he came in to show these berries. He would have to walk way around through the kitchen in those irritating shoes.
They all exclaimed and admired them as much as he could wish, then Grandma said suddenly: "But what did you do with the coat, Willy?"
"The coat?" repeated Willy in a bewildered way.
"Yes; the coat. Did you take it over to Josie's an' leave it? If you did, you must go right back and get it. Did you?"