"I hope I have not disturbed you," he said meekly. "I have torn the sleeve of my coat on a nail. I would like to borrow a needle and thread to mend it. I must keep myself looking as well as I possibly can, for my lawyer may call any moment to inform me that I have won my suit and am a very wealthy man."
"I am sorry, señor," said Felipe; "but it is not my fortune to possess a needle and thread."
The old man lifted one trembling, curved hand to the back of his ear, which he turned toward the speaker.
"I didn't quite get your answer," he said. "I am a trifle deaf—only a trifle."
Felipe raised his voice.
"I have not a needle and thread. I would willingly assist you if I had. I am sorry."
"I am sorry, too," sighed the old man, looking regretfully at the rent in his sleeve. "I should be greatly mortified if my lawyer came and found me in this condition."
The boy felt that this wretched old man would be better company than none at all.
"Won't you come in and sit down?" he asked.