A missionary brought him a pair of paper slippers, worth fourpence (I saw them), and proceeded to offer up fifty prayers or so for the good of Dan Cullen's soul.

But Dan Cullen was the sort of man that wanted his soul left alone.

He did not care to have Tom, Dick, or Harry, on the strength of fourpenny slippers, tampering with it.

He asked the missionary kindly to open the window, so that he might toss the slippers out.

And the missionary went away, to return no more, likewise impressed with the ungratefulness of the poor.
The cobbler, a brave old hero himself, though unaneled and unsung, went privily to the head office of the big fruit brokers for whom Dan Cullen had worked as a casual labourer for thirty years.