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The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket
which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said
to herself.

“No, I don’t dare. Poor boy, I reckon he’s lied about it-but it’s a blessed, blessed
lie, there’s such comfort come from it. I hope the Lord-I know the Lord will
forgive him, because it was such good-heartedness in him to tell it. But I don’t
want to find out it’s a lie. I won’t look.” She put the jacket away, and stood by
musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and
twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself
with the thought: “It’s a good lie-it’s a good lieI won’t let it grieve me.” So she
sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom’s piece of bark
through flowing tears and saying: “I could forgive the boy, now, if he’d
committed a million sins!”