Anderson had not been long in his office before he heard a quick patter of feet outside, the peculiar clapping sound of swift toes, which none but a child’s feet can produce, and Eddy Carroll entered.  The door was ajar, and he pushed it open and ran in with no ceremony.  He was well in the room before he apparently remembered something.  He stopped short, ran back to the door, and knocked.

Anderson chuckled.  “Come in,” he said, in a loud tone, as if the door was closed.

Then Eddy came forward with some dignity.  “I remembered after I got in that I ought to have knocked,” said he.  “I hope you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly,” said Anderson.  “Won’t you have a seat?”

Eddy sat down and swung his feet, kicking the round of the chair, with his eyes fastened on Anderson, who was seated in the other chair, smoking.  “How old were you when you began to smoke?” the boy inquired, suddenly.

“Very much older than you are,” replied Anderson.

Eddy sighed.  “Is it very nice to smoke?” said he.

Anderson was conscious that he was distinctly at a loss for a reply, and felt like a defaulting Sunday-school teacher as he cast about for one.

“Is it?” said Eddy again.

“Different people look at it differently,” said Anderson, “and the best way is for you to wait until you are a man and decide for yourself.”

“Is it nicer to be a man than it was to be a boy?” inquired Eddy.

“That, also, is a matter of opinion,” said Anderson.

“You can do lots of things that a boy can’t,” said Eddy.  “You can smoke, and you can keep store, and have all the candy you want.”  Eddy cast an innocent glance towards the office door as he spoke.

“Sam!” called Anderson; and when the young clerk’s grinning face appeared at the door, “Will you bring some of those peppermint-drops here for this young man.”

“I’d rather have chocolates, if you can’t sell ’em any better than the peppermint-drops,” Eddy said, quickly.

When Sam reappeared with chocolates in a little paper bag, Eddy was blissful.  He ate and swung his feet.  “These are bully,” said he.  “I should think as long as you can have all the chocolates you want, you’d rather eat those than smoke a pipe.”

“It is a matter of taste,” replied Anderson.

“I’m always going to eat chocolates instead of smoking,” said Eddy.  “He gave me a lot.  Say, I don’t see how a boy can steal candy, do you?”

“No.  It is very wrong,” said Anderson.

“You bet ’tis.  I knew a boy in New York State, where we used to live before we came here, that stole candy ’most every day, and he used to bring it to school and give the other boys.  He used to give me much as a pound a day.  Some days he used to give me much as five pounds.”  Then Eddy Carroll, after delivering himself of this statement, could not get his young, black eyes away from the fixed regard of the man’s keen, blue ones, and he began to wriggle as to his body, with his eyes held firm by that unswerving gaze.  “What you looking at me that way for?” he stammered.  “I don’t think you’re very polite.”