“Then the woman broke down and cried, but recovered herself when Granny began to count the money. They went over it together, and made out one hundred and ninety-five dollars.
“‘Take it,’ said Granny, holding out the stocking, ‘and bring it back when you get good and ready. There’s no hurry.’
“The woman held tight on the stocking, but she said quite anxiously, ‘How much interest will you charge?’
“‘No interest,’ said Granny.
“This broke the fat woman all up. She cried and sobbed, and when she found in addition that Granny didn’t want even an I. O. U., she hugged and kissed her, as if she had been her daughter. She told Granny all that had ever happened to her, and they became great friends on the spot.”
“Hurry up,” I said to the cat, “I see master drawing on his gloves.”
We had moved into the cute little hallway of the cottage, and I could look in through the kitchen door and see master talking to the old lady who had made him a cup of tea just as she had done for the fat woman. I think he was telling her about the baby, for she had a photograph album on the table between them, and had been pointing out pictures of little children to him.
“That’s a fine story,” I said—“what’s the end?”
“There isn’t any end,” said the black cat triumphantly. “It’s still going on. The woman comes out here every Sunday evening when trade is low, and she brings goodies to Granny, and Granny goes in to see her once a week, and goes to a show with her, and tells me all about it when she comes home.”
“And the restaurant,” I said, “did they make it over?”