His uncle, who was desirous to see his nephews act without restraint, that he might judge of their characters, bid them do as they pleased.
"Come then, Ben, if you've any half-pence in your pocket."
"I am not hungry," said Ben.
"I suppose that means that you've no half-pence," said Hal, laughing, with a look of superiority, which he had been taught to think the rich might assume towards those who were convicted either of poverty or economy.
"Waste not, want not," said Ben to himself. Contrary to his cousin's surmise, he happened to have two-penny worth of half-pence actually in his pocket.
At the very moment Hal stepped into the pastry-cook's shop, a poor industrious man, with a wooden leg, who usually sweeps the dirty corner of the walk which turns at this spot to the Wells, held his hat to Ben, who, after glancing his eye at the petitioner's well-worn broom, instantly produced his two-pence.
"I wish I had more half-pence for you, my good man," said he; "but I've only two-pence."
Hal came out of Mr. Millar's, the confectioner's shop, with a hat full of cakes in his hand.
Mr. Millar's dog was sitting on the flags before the door; and he looked up with a wistful, begging eye at Hal, who was eating a queen-cake.
Hal, who was wasteful even in his good nature, threw a whole queen-cake to the dog, who swallowed it for a single mouthful.