The old man [Ely] fitted the tins into his knapsack and fastened the straps. You should thank him you know, the man said. I wouldnt have given you anything.
[Ely:] Maybe I should and maybe I shouldnt.
[The Man:] Why wouldnt you?
[Ely:] I wouldnt have given him mine.
[The Man:] You dont care if it hurts his feelings?
[Ely:] Will it hurt his feelings?
[The Man:] No. That's not why he did it.
[Ely:] Why did he do it?
He looked over at the boy and he looked at the old man. You wouldnt understand, he said. I'm not sure I do.
[Ely:] Maybe he believes in God.
[The Man:] I dont know what he believes in.
[Ely:] He'll get over it.
[The Man:] No he wont.
The old man didnt answer. He looked around at the day. (238.1-238.14)
For starters, we love Ely's crotchetiness ("Maybe I should and maybe I shouldnt"). There's also a telling exchange here about The Boy, which helps explain – though only a little – his singular compassion in the face of such a dismal world. When The Man says he's not sure he understands The Boy's compassionate nature, Ely responds that maybe he believes in God. The Man doesn't commit one way or the other, but he does remain firm on one point: The Boy won't "get over" this kindness. As readers we can hold onto this tidbit from The Man. Whatever happens to The Boy, his kindness defines him. (Side question: Is kindness also what defines The Boy and The Man as a group? Is it the thing that differentiates them from other people on the road?)