"
"And you never saw him before?"
"Never."
"Humph! One wouldn't think it, to see his charming air of nonchalant
accustomedness."
"Oh, but it doesn't take much to make a little fellow like that feel at
home," laughed Billy.
"And are you in the habit of feeding every one who comes to your house,
on ice cream and chocolate cake? I thought that stone doorstep of yours
was looking a little worn."
"Not a bit of it," retorted Billy. "This little chap came with a message
just as I was finishing dinner. The ice cream was particularly good
to-night, and it occurred to me that he might like a taste; so I gave it
to him."
Bertram raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"Very kind, of course; but--why ice cream?" he questioned. "I thought it
was roast beef and boiled potatoes that was supposed to be handed out to
gaunt-eyed hunger."
"It is," nodded Billy, "and that's why I think sometimes they'd like ice
cream and chocolate frosting. Besides, to give sugar plums one doesn't
have to unwind yards of red tape, or worry about 'pauperizing the poor.'
To give red flannels and a ton of coal, one must be properly circumspect
and consult records and city missionaries, of course; and that's why
it's such a relief sometimes just to hand over a simple little sugar
plum and see them smile."
For a minute Bertram was silent, then he asked abruptly:
"Billy, why did you leave the Strata?"
Billy was taken quite by surprise.
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