"I've got two. You can have one of mine," cried Peace, forgetting wisdom, discretion, everything, in her great pity for this hapless bit of humanity.
"You mean it? No, you fool," was the disconcerting reply.
"I'm not a fool!"
"No, no, not a fool. You jus' fool,—joke. You no mean it."
"I do, too! Wait a minute till I get it, and see if it fits. You're thinner'n me, but you're about as tall."
She rushed eagerly up the stairway, and soon returned with the pretty, brown coat which she had found on her bed Christmas morning. Into this she bundled the surprised beggar child, pleased to think it fitted so well, and explained rapidly, "I got two new coats for Christmas. Grandma said the red one was for best, so I kept that one, but you can have this. Keep it on outside your old rag. It will be just that much warmer, and tonight is awfully cold. Here's a pair of mittens, too. Wear 'em; they're nice and warm."
Thrusting Allee's bag of lunch into the blue-mittened hands, Peace opened the door and let the newly-cloaked figure run down the walk to the impatient man stamping back and forth in the street. They watched him minutely examining the child's new treasures, but they could not see the avaricious gleam in his ugly eyes, nor did they dream that the precious brown coat would be stripped off the shivering little form just as soon as they were out of sight around the corner, and bartered for whiskey at the nearest saloon.
So happy was Peace in thinking of this other child's happiness that she never once thought of her promise made to her grandfather until she saw Jud drive up the avenue and help the rest of the family out of the big sleigh. At sight of the erect figure striding up the walk with the gentle little grandmother on one arm and sister Gail on the other, she suddenly remembered that he had told her when she gave away her shoes that she must ask permission before disposing of her belongings, or he should be compelled to use drastic measures. "Brass-stick" measures, she called it, and visions of a certain brass rule on the desk in the library rose before her in a most disquieting fashion as she recalled that impressive interview.
"Don't tell him what you have done," whispered a little evil voice in her ear.
"Tell him at once," commanded her conscience; and acting upon the impulse of the moment, she flew into the old gentleman's arms almost before he had crossed the threshold and panted out, "I 'xpect you'll be compendled to use your brass-stick measures on me this time sure. I guv away my coat!"