The girl stood there, still intent on the blanket, “it’s double too,” she said reproachfully to Dad.
“Yes,” said Granddad, it’s double – a fine blanket for an old fellow to go away with.”
The boy went suddenly into the hut. He was looking for something. He could hear that girl criticizing Dad, and Dad becoming angry in his slow way. And now she was suddenly going away angrily. As Petey came out, she turned and called out, “All the same, he doesn’t need a double blanket!” And she ran up the valley path.
Dad looked after her uncertainly.
“Oh, she’s right,” said the boy coldly. “Here, Dad,” and he held out a pair of scissors. Cut the blanket in two.”
Both of them stared at the boy surprised. “Cut it in two, I tell you Dad!” he cried out. “And keep one half!”
“That’s not a bad idea,” said Granddad gently. “I don’t need so much of a blanket.”
“Yes,” said the boy harshly. “A single blanket’s enough for an old man when he’s sent away. We’ll save the other half, Dad; it will come in handy later.”
“Now, what do you mean by that?” asked Dad.
“I mean,” said the boy slowly, “that I’ll give it to you, Dad – when you’re old and I send you away.”
There was silence, and then Dad went over to Granddad and stood before him, not speaking. But Granddad understood for he put out his hand and laid it on Dad’s shoulder. Petey was watching them. And he heard Granddad whisper, “It’s all right, son – I know you didn’t mean it.”
But it didn’t matter – because they were all three crying together.