And when she had finished her rolls and butter, she did eat it. "I never tasted a pie like that," declared she. "And I like pies and can make them too."
Once more they laughed, as if she had said the wittiest thing in the world.
As the last mouthful of the pie was disappearing, her friend said, "Another!"
"Goodness, no!" cried the girl. "I couldn't eat a bite more."
"But it's an apple pie." And he brought it, holding it on his big florid fat hand and turning it round to show her its full beauty.
She sighed regretfully. "I simply can't," she said. "How much is what I've had?"
Her friend frowned. "Vot you take me for—hey?" demanded he, with a terrible frown—so terrible he felt it to be that, fearing he had frightened her, he burst out laughing, to reassure.
"Oh, but I must pay," she pleaded. "I didn't come begging."
"Not a cent!" said her friend firmly. "I'm the boss. I won't take it."
She insisted until she saw she was hurting his feelings. Then she tried to thank him; but he would not listen to that, either. "Good-by—good-by," he said gruffly. "I must get to work once." But she understood, and went with a light heart up into the world again. He stood waist deep in the cellar, she hesitated upon the sidewalk. "Good-by," she said, with swimming eyes. "You don't know how good you've been to me."