“Yes, I have eaten a piece of bread.”
“That isn’t enough for you, grandfather. If you will come out with me I will get you some supper at the Jim Fisk restaurant.”
“No, no, Paul; I can’t afford it. It is sinful extravagance.”
“I can get you a cup of tea and some corn beef hash for eight cents. That isn’t much. Don’t you think you would enjoy a cup of tea?”
“Yes, Paul, it would do me good, if I could afford it.”
“But I will pay for it.”
“Oh, Paul, you will die in the poorhouse if you are so wasteful. The money that you have spent at that eating house would bring joy to the heart of your old grandfather.”
“Look here,” said Paul, who could not bring his mind to calling the old man grandfather, as he had often done before. “It’s no use talking. You may starve yourself if you want to, but I don’t mean to. I’m going out to supper now. If you go with me I’ll pay for your supper, and it shan’t cost you a cent. I am sure you would like a good cup of tea.”
For an instant an expression of longing crept over the face of the old miser, but it was soon succeeded by a look of cunning and greed.
“It would cost eight cents, wouldn’t it, Paul?” he said.