Beyond the valley, an old man was asleep on the grass, leaning against his pack. His hat covered his face. A staff, polished by use, lay beside his hand. Great-heart went to wake him before he grew cold.
The old man opened his eyes and gripped the staff. Only after looking carefully at them did he let go. “I thought someone had come to take my things again,” he said.
His name was Honest, and he had traveled many roads. When he heard they were a family from the City of Destruction, he asked Chris’s father what trade he had followed.
“Cloth and grain,” his father said.
Honest nodded and named a shop. When Chris’s father said it had been his, the old man touched his hat brim and grew quiet. A piece of faded blue cloth showed underneath.
“A couple of years ago, I bought cloth for a widow in our village,” he said. “For that price, there should have been enough winter clothes for her and the children. But when we unfolded it, a length was missing. The people in the shop said I had counted wrong.”
Christiana looked at her husband. His ears were reddening. She remembered him coming home and complaining about a customer who argued over everything. She had only asked how much they had earned that day.
“It may have been one of the workers—” her husband began, then stopped.
Honest did not press closer. He sat on the grass and waited. The children stood a little way off. Their daughter was still holding a leaf she had picked up.
After a long time, her husband said, “I told them to shift the ruler when they measured. I knew.”
The breeze moved the old man’s hat brim. He did not say that admitting it made everything all right. He explained that the mother had altered her own clothes for the children and spent much of the winter wrapped in an old blanket.
“Where is she living now?” Christiana asked.
Honest named the village. Her husband found paper, asked for the address, and wrote down the price and the missing length. He had little money left, and they still needed food for the road. This time he did not begin by saying it could wait.
“At the next place that sends letters, I’ll send what I can,” he said. “I’ll write down the rest of the debt and pay it back.”
Great-heart had them read the Bible’s account of Zacchaeus. When the Lord received him, he willingly returned money he had taken by fraud. “Repayment does not buy forgiveness,” Great-heart said. “But someone who truly repents will not use forgiveness as an excuse to keep what belongs to others.”
Honest decided to travel with them. He put on his hat, and his knee creaked as he rose. Christiana offered her hand. He took it. She knew some truths on this road would hurt to hear. She no longer wanted a fine dinner or a burst of laughter to cover them up.