“They can stay, Mr. Pomeroy,” he said, with an ill grace, “since you ask it.”
“I do not ask it. I will not accept, as a personal favor, what you should have granted from a motive of humanity, more especially as, after this exhibition of your spirit, I shall not trade here any longer.”
By this time the grocer perceived that he had made a mistake.
“I hope you will reconsider that, Mr. Pomeroy,” he said, abjectly. “The fact is, I had no objections to the boys warming themselves, but they are mostly thieves, and I could not keep my eyes on them all the time.”
“I think you are mistaken. They don’t look like thieves. Did you ever have anything stolen by one of this class of boys?”
“Not that I know of,” said the grocer, hesitatingly; “but it is likely they would steal if they got a chance.”
“We have no right to say that of anyone without good cause.”
“We never steal,” said Phil, indignantly; for he understood what was said.
“Of course he says so,” sneered the grocer. “Come and warm yourselves, if you want to.”
The boys accepted this grudging invitation, and drew near the stove. They spread out their hands, and returning warmth proved very grateful to them.