A boy entered a coffee shop where I worked as a waitress. He sat at a table and asked me how much an ice cream sundae was. “Fifty cents,” I replied. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. “How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table, and I was impatient. “Thirty-five cents,” I said angrily. The little boy again counted the coins and he ordered the plain ice cream. I brought the ice cream and walked away. The boy finished, paid the cashier, and departed. When I came back, I swallowed hard at what I saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were fifteen pennies—my tip.