her 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.

Her mother motioned her to be quiet. "Oh! it isn't anything," said
she. "You'd better give him his supper, and get him to bed; he's all
tired out. I'll tell you by and by," she motioned with her lips.

So Willy's mother soothed him all she could. "Of course you didn't,
dear," said she. "Mamma knows you didn't. Don't you worry any more
about it."

It was early, but she got some supper for him, and put him to bed, and
sat beside him until he went to sleep. She told him over and over that
she knew he "didn't," in reply to his piteous assertions, and all the
time she had not the least idea what it was all about.

After he had fallen asleep she went downstairs, and Grandma Stockton
told her. Willy's father had come, and he also heard the story.

"There's some mistake about it," said he. "I'll make Willy tell me
about it, to-morrow. Nothing is going to make me believe that he is
persisting in a deliberate lie in this way."

Willy's mother was crying herself, now. "He never--told me a lie in
his whole dear little life," she sobbed, "and I don't believe he has
now. Nothing will ever--make me believe so."

"Don't cry, Ellen," said her husband. "There's something about this
that we don't understand."

It was all talked over and over that night, but they were no nearer
understanding the case.

"I'll see what I can do with Willy in the morning," h