what do you want, the apple and the money and the change too?"

The old man snapped the penny down on the glass top of the candy case.
"Gimme my nickel," he said like a bird with one note.

The vendor passionately snatched up the penny and cast it at his feet.
"Go to Hell with your penny!" he cried.

Someone put a foot on it and that likewise was seen no more.

"Gimme my nickel!" said the old man.

Suddenly a voice in the crowd was heard to say: "Gee! it's Simeon
Deaves!"

"Simeon Deaves, of course!" thought Evan. That old face was
continually in the newspapers.

Instantly the temper of the crowd changed. There was nobody who could
read English that was not acquainted with this man's reputation. A
chorus of imprecations was heard:

"Miser! Skinflint! Tight-wad! Robber!"

The sallies of the sidewalk wits were almost drowned in the mere cries
of rage:

"Tight-wad, did you say? His wad is ossified to him!"

"He wants to put that penny out at interest!"

"Say, the Jews go to school to him."

"He'd skin the cream offen a baby's bottle, he would."

The old man looked down and back at them snarling. Like a cowed
animal's, his gaze was fixed upon their feet. Fearful of blows to
follow, he turned around, and edging away from the stand got his back
against the wall of the building. His face was ashy, yet oddly the
mouth was still fixed in the unvarying lines of the sly smile. The
fruit vendor made haste to shut up his stand.

A flushed and burly Irishwoman stepped in advance of the crowd. She
looked Deaves up and down insultingly. "What kind of a man do you call
yourself?" she cried. "With all your millions locked up in the bank,
and dressed in a suit that my old man wouldn't sweep up manure in!
What are you doing down here anyhow? Go back up town where you
belong!" She shook a fist like a ham in his face. "Do you see that?
That's an honest hand that never filched a penny. For a word I'd plant
it in your ugly face, you Shylock! You penny-parer!"

A youth's voice cried out: "Come on, fellows, let him have it!"

The crowd suddenly swayed forward. No one could tell exactly what
happened. A raised clenched fist smashed the old man's hat over his
eyes. Deaves went down out of sight.

This was too much for Evan. After all the man was old and it was fifty
to one against him. His blood boiled, and the megrims were forgotten.
He rushed in on the old man's side, swinging his arms and shouting: