Willy'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. Willy'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?"
"I didn't—do—any"—
"Hush," said she, "don't you say that again, Willy!" But she kept her arm around him.
Willy's mother came running to the door to meet them when they arrived. She had heard nothing of the trouble. She had only had a hurried message that they were coming to-day.
She threw her arms around Willy, then she held him back and looked at him. "Why, what is the matter with my precious boy!" she cried.
"O, mamma, mamma, I didn't, I didn't do anything with it!" he sobbed, and clung to her so frantically that she was alarmed.
"What does he mean, mother?" she asked.