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?"

"No."

"Why, what did you do with it?"

"I didn't do anything with it."

"William Dexter Norton! what do you mean?"