ARNIE has the patience of Job. He’s ultra-polite, always prepared to offer his bus seat to female passengers, or hold open doors to let others through. However, on Tuesday his chivalry was sorely tested.

He was leaving Boots the Chemist in Cornmarket Street when five women of various ages approached. He held open the door with courtly panache to allow them to file past. They offered neither acknowledgement of his action nor words of thanks.

However, the fifth woman was accompanied by her grandson who, like all children who are browned off with shopping, was trailing behind. The lad was about eight years old. He looked up at Arnie and said: “Thank you, Sir.”

Arnie was so moved by the lad’s obvious sincerity that he fished into his pocket and gave him 50p.

Grandma turned just in time to see the money change hands. She dashed back, scolding the lad.

“What are you up to?” she said, turning on Arnie. He told her the gift was for the boy’s good manners. She was dismissive and threatened him with the police, before pushing the lad in front of her and into the belly of the store.

Arnie shrugged, adjusted his crutches and walked out.

Crutches? Oh, haven’t I mentioned Arnie has no right leg.

SPEAKING of children, it’s a stony heart that can ignore the sobs of a child. Whether the aforementioned has acted in a way that deserved chastisement or simply bumped their head, the sound tears at the soul. Well, it does at mine.

Take Felicity. Somewhere between the Westgate Centre main door and Sainsbury’s, she had become separated from her mother and younger brother.

She was in tears. No one seemed to notice; if they had, they did nothing about it.

Step forward me. What was wrong? Where was her mother or some other relation?

Between sobs she told me her name, age ( three-and-three-quarters) and her predicament. Thankfully, no sooner had she divulged this, than her mother and younger brother Justin emerged from Hawkins Bazaar. Mum Gina had suspected, (wrongly) that Felicity might have been looking at the toys.

Thanking me, it didn’t take mum long to discover I was a grandparent. Hearing this, Felicity looked up at me, a pleading expression on her little face.

“Will you be my grandpa?” she asked, between gulps. “I haven’t got a grandpa.”

Before I could volunteer, mum leapt in. “Why Felicity, you little fibber. You have TWO grandpas!”

Felicity smiled weakly. What an actress! I was tempted to sign up in an honorary capacity on the spot.