The General fumbled around for his eye-glasses, put them on, and looked at Jimmy in astonishment.
"A nickel?" he asked.
"Yes, sir"; Jimmy blushed. "You know I ought to get back."
"Well, well," said the General. The boy had certainly the instincts of a gentleman. Not a single plea of poverty, and yet one could see that he was poor, very poor.
Just then a gong struck softly somewhere. "I'm not going to let you go until you have a bit of lunch with us," said the General. "I have told my wife of Jimmy of the market, and now I want you to meet her."
So Jimmy went down into a wonderful dining-room, where the silver and the cut glass shone, and where at the farther side of the table was the sweetest little old lady, who came and shook hands with him.
Jimmy had never before eaten lunch where the soup was served in little cups, but the General's wife put him at his ease when she told him that his very own soup-bunches were in that soup, and if he didn't eat plenty of it he wouldn't be advertising his wares. Then the General, with knife upraised, stopped in his carving of the cold roast chicken, and turned to Jimmy with a smile of approval in his genial face, and said that it was his sage, too, that was in the chicken dressing.
They made Jimmy talk, and finally he told them of his ambition for a basket stall.
"And when do you expect to get it?" asked the General, with a smile.
"When I get the goose that lays the golden egg, I am afraid, sir," said Jimmy, a little sadly.