'On the house, Sandy,' said the man, handing it to him and reaching over the crowded counter to ruffle the boy's unwilling hair. 'But don't tell your pals, mind, or they'll all be in here shouting about discrimination.' The man winked. 'And don't tell your mother. You know what she's like. I'm not giving you charity.' Sandy smiled shyly. He was embarrassed by his standing as Mr Patterson's favourite. He knew that behind the action lay real pity for him. Mr Patterson was good that way; everyone said so. The old and the young women discussed him in the street with string bags full of shopping weighing from their arms like pendulums. They called Mr Patterson 'sweet' and 'a treasure'. Mr Patterson was a bachelor and owned the Soda Fountain, which was Carsden's sweet shop. He also cut hair in a tiny room at the back of the shop whenever anyone asked him to. He cut Sandy's hair sometimes, and would take great care when doing so. Sandy knew that Mr Patterson used to be friendly with his grandfather, and that Mr Patterson had been with his grandfather the night he had been knocked down.
