"No, ma'am.
Not for me.
This lady wants something." She was not tall enough to see over the case, so she went to the end of the counter and looked at the little girl.
"Did you bring her in here?"
"No, ma'am.
She was here when I came."
"You little wretch," she said.
She came out around the counter, but she didn't touch the little girl. "Have you got anything in your pockets?"
"She hasn't got any pockets," I said. "She wasn't doing anything.
She was just standing here, waiting for you."
"Why didn't the bell ring, then?" She glared at me.
She just needed a bunch of switches, a blackboard behind her 2 x 2 e 5. "She'll hide it under her dress and a body'd never know it.
You, child. How'd you get in here?"
The little girl said nothing.
She looked at the woman, then she gave me a flying black glance and looked at the woman again.
"Them foreigners," the woman said. "How'd she get in without the bell ringing?"
"She came in when I opened the door," I said. "It rang once for both of us.
She couldn't reach anything from here, anyway.
Besides, I dont think she would.
Would you, sister?" The little girl looked at me, secretive, contemplative. "What do you want? bread?"
She extended her fist.
It uncurled upon a nickel, moist and dirty, moist dirt ridged into her flesh.
The coin was damp and warm.
I could smell it, faintly metallic.
"Have you got a five cent loaf, please, ma'am?"
From beneath the counter she produced a square cut from a newspaper sheet and laid it on the counter and wrapped a loaf into it.
I laid the coin and another one on the counter.
"And another one of those buns, please, ma'am."
She took another bun from the case.
"Give me that parcel," she said.
I gave it to her and she unwrapped it and put the third bun in and wrapped it and took up the coins and found two coppers in her apron and gave them to me.
I handed them to the little girl.
Her fingers closed about them, damp and hot, like worms.
"You going to give her that bun?" the woman said.
"Yessum," I said. "I expect your cooking smells as good to her as it does to me."
I took up the two packages and gave the bread to the little girl, the woman all iron-gray behind the counter, watching us with cold certitude.
"You wait a minute," she said.
She went to the rear.
The door opened again and closed.
The little girl watched me, holding the bread against her dirty dress.
"What's your name?" I said.
She quit looking at me, bu she was still motionless.
She didn't even seem to breathe.
The woman returned.
She had a funny looking thing in her hand.
She carried it sort of like it might have been a dead pet rat.
"Here," she said.
The child looked at her. "Take it," the woman said, jabbing it at the little girl. "It just looks peculiar.
I calculate you wont know the difference when you eat it. Here.
I cant stand here all day." The child took it, still watching her.