|Grandpa was getting animated as he spoke.
“So I says to the guy, I says, You got no business nosin’ around the back of my store. Get away from my dumpster and get on outta here. Pronto! Before I call the cops.”
Daisy looked up, suddenly taking notice of her Grandpa's tale of yet another down and outer he’d shooed away from the dumpsters behind his Sweet Shoppe.
“Where did he go Grandpa?”
“How should I know” her grandpa groused. “He was a bum. Who knows where bums go?”
Daisy ran and got a bag of day old cookies from the back of the store, hopped on her bike and set out after him. She did not have to go far. He was a block down, looking in the window of the Meat Market. Daisy pushed her front wheel into the bike rack, turned and said.
“Hey Mister! Want some of these here cookies? What’s your name anyway? Where’d you get that funny hat? How come you walk so slow?"
The man turned and said: “My, ain’t you full of questions? Does your mommy and daddy know you are out here talking to strangers?”
“Ain’t got no mommy and daddy, Mister. They got kilt by a logging truck out on highway 45 when I was only six. I’m Daisy. I’m nine years old now. I live with my grandpa over above the Sweet Shoppe.”
“Hmmm said the man. Well, people call me Mr. BeBop. Your grandpa don’t seem to like me much. Not sure if I ever wronged him, but I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, grandpa doesn’t seem to like poor folks. It’s like, since he doesn’t know what to do to help them he just runs them off. Would you like a cookie?”
“Why Yes! I believe I would like a cookie. Thank you!”