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I tell him he shall not open the other gates! I snatch the key! I tell him `No! No! The panaderia is my friend! The Zanjero is the panaderia's friend! He shall not cheat the Zanjero! My husband say if he open other gates he get money for mescal. I say 'No! I run away with key. My husband say, 'Don't tell anybody! I will not open the gates again!
The poor sick neighbor always came every day and was given bread. Winter passed and spring arrived without much change in the panaderia's prospects. "We could have eaten that ourselves," thought Rosa one night when the neighbor went out with the bread. The grandmother had said that the poor were God's care, and he would bless those who for his sake fed them.
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