dinner--that's all."

Bert had instinctively pocketed the pennies, but his sympathies were
excited.

"Poor old man!" he thought; "he's seen better days, I guess. Perhaps
he's no home. A boy like me can stand it, but I guess it must be hard
for him. He meant to give me the odd cent, all the while; and I don't
believe he has had a decent dinner for many a day."

All this, which I have been obliged to write out slowly in words, went
through Bert's mind like a flash. He was a generous little fellow, and
any kindness shown him, no matter how trifling, made his heart overflow.

"Look here," he cried; "where are _you_ going to get your dinner,
to-day?"

"I can get a bite here as well as anywhere--it don't matter much to me,"
replied the old man.

"Come; eat dinner with me," said Bert, "I'd like to have you."

"I'm afraid I couldn't afford to dine as you are going to," said the
man, with a smile, his eyes twinkling again.

"I'll pay for your dinner!" Bert exclaimed. "Come! we don't have a
Thanksgiving but once a year, and a fellow wants a good time then."

"But you are waiting for another boy."