I let an orphan boy run beside my wagon on my way into the city. He was very pleased that he didn’t have to pay for his passage. He trotted alongside the horses and talked my ear off, eager to see London. He had heard that the streets were paved with gold, and he would collect a bushel of it. I wasn’t about to disappoint him. Let the muddy streets do that.
I got to town and stopped in front of a tavern. I pretended not to know him when I went inside. I’d come to the end of my charity.