"My lad," said Lyman, "can't you bring a bottle of beer for your good aunt and myself. Here's money; you can bring back the change."
"You go, Jack, for the gentleman," said Peggy, quite restored to good humor. "I don't mind sayin' that my throat is just parched with bein' so dhry."
Johnny went out, and soon returned, for he had not far to go. In spite of his company being so unwelcome, Tim went and returned with him.
"Won't you give me a little, Peggy," he asked.
"No, I won't. You wanted Jack to trate you on my money. Now clear out, and never let me see your ugly face here ag'in."
"That's the thanks I get for tellin' you!" complained Tim. "And after runnin' myself out of breath, too!"
"Clear out wid you! And you, Jack, go back and see if you can't sell some more matches. It's only the middle of the afternoon, and there's plenty of time before sunset to sell half-a-dozen boxes."
Johnny obeyed, not unwillingly, for he was not partial to home, nor did he enjoy Peggy's company. Tim accompanied him, but Johnny, gentle as he was, refused to have anything to say to him. Tim felt that he was badly treated. Johnny turned his back on him, and Peggy had utterly failed to acknowledge the service he had rendered her. Tim was of opinion that it was a cold world, and that there was little encouragement to be virtuous.