"Cold," replied Bert, "I'm nearly froze. And I want my dinner. And I'm
going to have a big dinner, too, seeing it's Thanksgiving day."

"Ah! lucky for you, my boy!" said the old man. "You've a home to go to,
and friends, too I hope."

"No, sir; no home, and no friend--only my mother." Bert hesitated and
grew serious, then suddenly changed his tone--"and Hop Houghton. I told
him to meet me here, and we'd have a first-rate Thanksgiving dinner
together, for it's no fun to be eating alone Thanksgiving day! It sets a
fellow thinking,--if he ever had a home, and then hasn't got a home any
more."

"It's more lonesome not to eat at all," said the old man, his gray eyes
twinkling. "And what can a boy like you have to think of? Here, I guess
I can find one cent for you--though there's nothing in the paper, I
know."

The old man spoke with some feeling, his fingers trembled, and somehow
he dropped two cents instead of one into Bert's hand.

"Here! you've made a mistake!" cried Bert. "A bargain's a bargain.
You've given me a cent too much!"

"No, I didn't,--I never give anybody a cent too much!"

"But--see here!" And Bert showed the two cents, offering to return one.

"No matter," said the old man. "It will be so much less for _my_