"Purty blamed near it at times," he returned definitely, then addressing
the company in general he added, "Look at the time he worked over there
on Fisher's Island, at the Ellersbie farm--the time they were packing
the ice there. You remember that, Henry, don't you?"

Mr. Main nodded.

"What about it?"

"What about it! Why, he give his rubber boots away, like a darned fool,
to old drunken Jimmy Harper, and him loafin' around half the year drunk,
and worked around on the ice without any shoes himself. He might 'a'
took cold and died."

"Why did he do it?" I queried, very much interested by now.

"Oh, Charlie's naturally big-hearted," put in the little old man who
sold cunners. "He believes in the Lord and the Bible. Stands right
square on it, only he don't belong to no church like. He's got the
biggest heart I ever saw in a livin' being."

"Course the other fellow didn't have any shoes for to wear," put in the
boat-maker explanatorily, "but he never would work, anyhow."

They lapsed into silence while the latter returned to his measuring, and
then out of the drift of thought came this from the helper in the
corner:

"Yes, and look at the way Bailey used to sponge on him. Get his money