“Yes, but that isn’t much. If you’d like a plate of roast beef and a cup of tea, I’ll buy it for you. They will cost only eleven cents. So put on your hat, and we will go out together.”
“Wait a minute, Paul,” said the old man. “Would you mind giving me the money instead—eleven cents?”
“No, I don’t mind, but I would rather you would go out with me. How do you expect to keep soul and body together without anything but dry bread and cold water?”
“I’m so poor, Paul; I can’t afford anything better,” whined old Jerry.
“I see it’s no use talking to you,” said Paul, in a vexed tone. “Well, if you prefer to have me give you the money, here it is.”
He took from his pocket a dime and a penny, and passed it over to the old man.
Old Jerry chuckled, and a smile crept over his wrinkled features, as he eagerly clutched the coins.
“Good boy, Paul!” he said. “That’s right, to be kind to your poor old grandfather.”
“Well, I’m going out to supper,” said Paul, abruptly, for it was painful to him to witness this evidence of the old man’s infatuation. “I’ll be back soon.