Sometimes in the kitchen, when there was nobody around, she would praise
me saying that I was straightforward and of a good disposition. What she
meant by that exactly, was not clear to me, however. If I were of so
good a nature as she said, I imagined those other than Kiyo should
accord me a better treatment. So whenever Kiyo said to me anything of
the kind, I used to answer that I did not like passing compliments. Then
she would remark; "That's the very reason I say you are of a good
disposition," and would gaze at me with absorbing tenderness. She seemed
to recreate me by her own imagination, and was proud of the fact. I felt
even chilled through my marrow at her constant attention to me.
After my mother was dead, Kiyo loved me still more. In my simple
reasoning, I wondered why she had taken such a fancy to me. Sometimes I
thought it quite futile on her part, that she had better quit that sort
of thing, which was bad for her. But she loved me just the same. Once
in, a while she would buy, out of her own pocket, some cakes or
sweetmeats for me. When the night was cold, she would secretly buy some
noodle powder, and bring all unawares hot noodle gruel to my bed; or
sometimes she would even buy a bowl of steaming noodles from the
peddler.
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