In another corner of the room were a gas burner（煤气灶）and a fridge. Mrs. Jones got up and walked there. She did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her handbag, which she left behind her on the sofa. But the boy was careful to sit on the far side of the room, away from the bag, where he thought she could easily see him out of the corner of her eye if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman to trust him. And he did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he didn't want anyone to doubt him now.
"Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked the boy, maybe to get some milk or something?"
"Don't believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I'm going to make chocolate milk. "
"That will be fine," said the boy.
Mrs. Jones heated some cooked food she had in the fridge and set the table. She didn't ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his parents, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she told him about her job in a hotel beauty shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out. Then she cut him half of her cake. "Eat some more, son" she said.
When they finished eating, Mrs. Jones got up and said, "Now, here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And, next time, do not make the mistake of stealing my bag nor nobody else's —because shoes got in this way will burn your feet. I've got to get my rest now. But, son, I hope you will behave yourself from now on.
The woman led the way down the hall to the front door and opened it. "Good night! Behave yourself, boy!" she said, looking into the street as he went down the steps.
The boy wanted to say something other than "Thank you, ma'am" to Mrs. Jones, but although his mouth moved, he couldn't even say that, as he turned at the front of the steps and looked up at the large woman in the door. Then Mrs. Jones shut the door. And the boy never saw her again.
