“Do you do your own baking, ma’am?”

“Sir?” she said. Like that. Sir? Like on the stage. Sir? “Five cents. Was there anything else?”

“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 didnt touch the little girl. “Have you got anything in your pockets?”

“She hasnt got any pockets,” I said. “She wasnt doing anything. She was just standing here, waiting for you.”