“What did you do next?”
“I went into the match business,” said Dick; “but it was small sales and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in a stock, and didn’t want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn’t money enough to pay for a lodgin’, I burned the last of my matches to keep me from freezin’. But it cost too much to get warm that way, and I couldn’t keep it up.”
“You’ve seen hard times, Dick,” said Frank, compassionately.
“Yes,” said Dick, “I’ve knowed what it was to be hungry and cold, with nothin’ to eat or to warm me; but there’s one thing I never could do,” he added, proudly.
“What’s that?”
“I never stole,” said Dick. “It’s mean and I wouldn’t do it.”
“Were you ever tempted to?”
“Lots of times. Once I had been goin’ round all day, and hadn’t sold any matches, except three cents’ worth early in the mornin’. With that I bought an apple, thinkin’ I should get some more bimeby. When evenin’ come I was awful hungry. I went into a baker’s just to look at the bread. It made me feel kind o’ good just to look at the bread and cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me some. I asked ’em wouldn’t they give me a loaf, and take their pay in matches. But they said they’d got enough matches to last three months; so there wasn’t any chance for a trade. While I was standin’ at the stove warmin’ me, the baker went into a back room, and I felt so hungry I thought I would take just one loaf, and go off with it. There was such a big pile I don’t think he’d have known it.”
“But you didn’t do it?”
“No, I didn’t and I was glad of it, for when the man came in ag’in, he said he wanted some one to carry some cake to a lady in St. Mark’s Place. His boy was sick, and he hadn’t no one to send; so he told me he’d give me ten cents if I would go. My business wasn’t very pressin’ just then, so I went, and when I come back, I took my pay in bread and cakes. Didn’t they taste good, though?”