"Well, then make it a dime," wheedled the old man, stopping him again. "You'll never miss a dime, friend. Come, what's a dime to a young man like you. And it'll get me a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. That'll help an old man like me a lot, for Katie won't be home till mornin'."
Merely to free himself David drew out one of his precious dimes.
"Thank you, thank you!" The dirty, wrinkled hand closed tightly upon the coin. "You've saved an old man from goin' hungry to bed."
David again turned to enter. He almost ran against a slight, neatly-dressed girl, apparently about twenty, who was just coming out of the doorway. Her black eyes were gleaming, and there were red spots in her cheeks. At sight of her the old man started to hurry away.
"Jim Morgan! You come here!" she commanded in a ringing voice.
The old man stopped, and came slowly toward her with a hang-dog look.
"You've been borrowing money of that man!" she declared.
"No I ain't. We were talkin'—talkin' politics. Honest, Katie. We were just talkin' politics."
"You were begging money!" She turned her sharp eyes upon David. "Wasn't he?"
The old man winked frantically for help with his red eye, and started to slip the dime into his pocket. The girl, without waiting for David's answer, wheeled about so quickly that she caught both the signal for help and the move of the hand pocketward. She pointed at the hand. "Stop that! Now open it up!"