Tommy for backslidings, but oh, it was sweet to her to decide that she
had not found any.

"It was I who was horrid," she announced to him frankly, and Tommy
forgave her at once. She offered him a present: "When the doctor died
I gave some of his things to his friends; it is the Scotch custom, you
know. He had a new overcoat; it had been worn but two or three times.
I should be so glad if you would let me give it to you for saying such
sweet things about him. I think it will need very little alteration."

Thus very simply came into Tommy's possession the coat that was to
play so odd a part in his history. "But oh, Grizel," said he, with
mock reproach, "you need not think that I don't see through you! Your
deep design is to cover me up. You despise my velvet jacket!"

"It does not--" Grizel began, and stopped.

"It is not in keeping with my doleful countenance," said Tommy,
candidly; "that was what you were to say. Let me tell you a secret,
Grizel: I wear it to spite my face. Sha'n't give up my velvet jacket
for anybody, Grizel; not even for you." He was in gay spirits, because
he knew she liked him again; and she saw that was the reason, and it
warmed her. She was least able to resist Tommy when he was most a
boy, and it was actually watchful Grizel who proposed that he and she
and Elspeth should revisit the Den together. How often since the days
of their childhood had Grizel wandered it alone, thinking of those
dear times, making up her mind that if ever Tommy asked her to go into
the Den again with him she would not go, the place was so much sweeter
to her than it could be to him. And yet it was Grizel herself who was
saying now, "Let us go back to the Den."