“Do you think I provide a fire for all the vagabonds in the city?” said the grocer, with a brutal disregard of their evident suffering.
Phil hesitated, not knowing whether he was ordered out or not.
“Clear out of my store, I say!” said the grocer, harshly. “I don’t want you in here. Do you understand?”
At this moment a gentleman of prepossessing appearance entered the store. He heard the grocer’s last words, and their inhumanity made him indignant.
“What do these boys want, Mr. Perkins?” he said.
“They want to spend their time in my shop. I have no room for such vagabonds.”
“We are cold,” said Phil. “We only want to warm ourselves by the fire.”
“I don’t want you here,” said the grocer, irritably.
“Mr. Perkins,” said the gentleman, sharply, “have you no humanity? What harm can it do you to let these poor boys get warm by your fire? It will cost you nothing; it will not diminish your personal comfort; yet you drive them out into the cold.”
The grocer began to perceive that he was on the wrong tack. The gentleman who addressed him was a regular and profitable customer, and he did not like to incur his ill will, which would entail loss.