The Lost Mitten

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When winter's frosty evenings crept across the village, the children were called to supper at a much earlier hour. It was too cold and too dark to play on the green, and soon the snow would come. Yet the children did not worry about that; Grandma Coppee made sure that each and every child had their very own pair of thick, warm mittens.

Now, this one particular day was the day of the first snowfall of winter. Grandma Coppee was at home, wrapped up snugly in her blanket and sitting in her cosy old chair beside the fire. She was watching through the window, as the snowflakes fluttered to the ground, when...

Knock, knock.

Without a grumble or a groan, Grandma Coppee pulled herself from her cosy chair and hobbled to the door. She opened it and looked down through her spectacles at the shivering waif standing before her.

"Good evening, George," she said.

"Good evening, Grandma Coppee," the little boy replied in a shaky voice. He was quite chilled and also a bit nervous.

Grandma Coppee smiled kindly. "What can I do for you, my dear?"

"Please," George said bravely, "I would very much like some of your thick, warm mittens."

Grandma Coppee lifted a crooked finger and rubbed her chin. She hummed thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

The little boy nodded eagerly.

"Tell me. Have you been a kind friend?"

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