"I did, Granny. Four times as much as I told you I'd get."
"But—"
"And there's a place for more."
Granny stroked the kitten and there was a look of near sadness in her eyes. After a moment she said gently, "It seems almost sinful, that much for aught so small."
"It's not," Jeff assured her. "The man who bought them from me will make a profit, too."
"He can do that and welcome he is. Land! Who would have thought it? Two hundred dollars! Half would do me for a year."
"All would do you for two years."
Granny shook her head. "No, Jeff. For sixty-four years I've abided here and never had a hundred dollars all at once. Never missed it, either, 'cept when Enos was sick. I might have paid a doctor for him. If you see fit to give me half, I'll take it should I have need of aught that is not at my hand. Half is yours."
Jeff hesitated. He worked for profit, but somehow it hadn't seemed right to make any on Granny. Still, as far as she was concerned, a hundred dollars was a vast sum and obviously she had gone as far as she intended to go.
Granny laughed. "We'll leave it that way and I'll have more ta—Oh, hang! I keep forgettin' the name. More cloths the next time you go. It seems a mort of pay for what pleasures me so dear. Now I'll rouse up some eatables."