The thin moon was high overhead and the gentle breeze blew down the valley. The last
time, Peter thought. He would never hear Grandad play again. It was well that Dad was
moving to a new house -- away from here. He did not want to sit here outside on fine
evenings under a white moon with Grandad gone. The music ended, and the two sat for a
few minutes in silence Then Grandad spoke "Here is something happier."
Peter sat and looked out over the valley. Dad would marry that girl. Yes, that girl who
had kissed him and who had said she would try to be a good mother to him and all that.
The tune stopped suddenly and Grandad said, "It's a poor tune, except to be dancing to."
And then, "It's a fine girl your father's going to marry. He will feel young again with a
pretty wife like that. And what would an old fellow like me do around the house . . .
getting in the way . . . an old fool with all the talk about backaches and pains!
"And then there will be babies coming, and I don't want to be around listening to them
cry all hours of the night. No, it's best that I leave. Well, one more tune or two, and then
we will get to bed, get some sleep. In the morning I'll get my new blanket and take my
leave. Listen to this. It's a bit of a sad tune but a nice one for a night like this."
They did not hear the two people coming down the road, Dad and the pretty girl with a
hard bright face like a doll. But they heard her laugh and the tune stopped suddenly.
Dad did not say a word, but the girl walked up to Grandad and said prettily, "I'll not be
seeing you in the morning, so I came over to say good-bye." "It's kind of you," said
Grandad, looking down at the floor; and then seeing the blanket at his feet, he bent down
to pick it up. "And will you look at this," he said, sounding himself like a little boy. "Isn't
this a fine blanket my son has given me to go away with? " "Yes," she said, "it's a fine
blanket." She felt the wool again . . and said, "A fine blanket indeed." She turned to Dad
and said to him coldly, "Must have cost a pretty penny.
Dad cleared his throat . . . "I . . . I wanted him to have the best. . . ."
The girl stood there, still looking at the blanket. "Mmmm . . . it's a double one, too."
"Yes," the old man said, "it's a double one . . . a fine blanket for an old fellow to be going
away with."
The boy suddenly walked into the house. He could hear the girl, still talking about the
expensive blanket. He heard his Dad get angry in his slow way. And now, she was
leaving. As Peter came out, the girl turned and called back, "No matter what you say, he
doesn't need a double blanket!"