"I had a toy in my pocket. My Pa made it for me." Clover fought away sudden tears. Even though he knew his father could make him another toy just like it, he still felt attached to the tinkered thing and hoped they would find his coat not just because he was damp and getting cold as the sun dropped further toward the horizon but so he could have his toy back. "I don't think I could get another coat if I can't find mine now," he said sadly and started ruffling through the other boys' coats again for a third time, juuust in case he'd missed his coat hiding under someone else's, but no cigar once more.