g the boy said, as though continuing the
conversation:

"Yes, Pa says that last oleomargarine I got here is nothing but axle
grease. Why don't you put your axle grease in a different kind of a
package? The only way you can tell axle grease from oleomargarine is
in spreading it on pancakes. Pa says axle grease will spread, but your
alleged butter just rolls right up and acts like lip salve, or ointment,
and is only fit to use on a sore--"

At this point the ladies went out of the store in disgust, without
buying anything, and the grocery man took a dried codfish by the tail
and went up to the boy and took him by the neck. "Golblast you, I have
a notion to kill you. You have driven away more custom from this store
than your neck is worth. Now you git," and he struck the boy across the
back with the codfish.

"That's just the way with you all," says the boy, as he put his sleeve
up to his eyes and pretended to cry, "when a fellow is up in the world,
there is nothing too good for him, but when he gets down, you maul him
with a codfish. Since Pa drove me out of the house, and told me to go
shirk for my living, I haven't had a kind word from anybody. My chum's
dog won't even follow me, and when a fellow gets so low down that a dog
goes back on him there is nothing left for him to do but to loaf around
a grocery, or sit on a jury, and I am too young to sit on a jury, though
I know more than some of the beats that lay around the court to get on a
jury. I am going to drown myself, and my death will be laid to you. They
will find evidences of codfish on my clothing, and you will be arrested
for driving me to a suicide's grave. Good-bye. I forgive you," and the
boy started for the door.

"Hold on here," says the grocery man, feeling that he had been too
harsh, "Come back here and have some maple sugar. What did your Pa drive
you away from home for?"

"O, it was on account of St. Patrick's Day," said the bad boy as he bit
off half a pound of maple sugar, and dried his tears. "You see, Pa never
sees Ma buy a new silk handkerchief, but he wants it. Tother day Ma got
one of these orange-colored handkerchiefs, and Pa immediately had a
sore throat and wanted to wear it, and Ma let him put it on. I thought
I would break him of taking everything nice that Ma got, so when he went
down town with the orange handkerchief on his neck, I told some of the
St. Patrick boys in the Third ward, who had green ribbons on, that the
old duffer tha