"I only got fifty cents."
"All right. Take them."
She turned away from him to pull the last of her little horde out of her blouse. When she faced him, there were tears in her eyes.
"What's the matter?" he asked kindly.
"Nothin'. My father used to keep this store. These were the last books I read to him."
"Oh! Is your name Rayefsky? I knew your father—he was a good man. And I guess I used to know you, when you were about so high. Let's see—what was your name?"
"Yetta."
"Oh, yes, little Yetta Rayefsky, grown up into a big woman. I suppose you'll be getting married soon."
"Say, can I sit down here fer a while," she asked, to change the subject.
"Of course you can," he said cordially, bringing her a chair.