“Stop that, Terrel Junior,” the woman said quiedy. But Terrel kept pushing his bus on the glass, and she smiled at me again as if we both understood something sad. Except I knew Cheryl would never damage a television set. She had respect for nice things, and I was sorry for the lady that Terrel didn’t. “What did you want to ask?” the woman said.

“What goes on in that plant or whatever it is back there beyond these trailers, where all the lights are on?”

“Gold,” the woman said and smiled.

“It’s what?” I said.

“Gold,” the Negro woman said, smiling as she had for almost all the time I’d been there. “It’s a gold mine.”

“They’re mining gold back there?” I said, pointing.

“Every night and every day.” She smiled in a pleased way.

“Does your husband work there?” I said.

“He’s the assayer,” she said. “He controls the quality. He works three months a year, and we live the rest of the time at home in Rockford. We’ve waited a long time for this. We’ve been happy to have our grandson, but I won’t say I’ll be sorry to have him go. We’re ready to start our lives over.” She smiled broadly at me and then at Terrel, who was giving her a spiteful look from the floor. “You said you had a daughter,” the Negro woman said. “And what’s her name?”

“Irma Cheryl,” I said. “She’s named for my mother.”

“That’s nice. And she’s healthy, too. I can see it in your face.” She looked at Terrel Junior with pity.

“I guess I’m lucky,” I said.

“So far you are. But children bring you grief, the same way they bring you joy. We were unhappy for a long time before my husband got his job in the gold mine. Now, when Terrel starts to school, we’ll be kids again.” She stood up. “You might miss your cab, Mr. Middleton,” she said, walking toward the door, though not to be forcing me out. She was too polite. “If we can’t see your car, the cab surely won’t be able to.”

“That’s true.” I got up off the recliner, where I’d been so comfortable. “None of us have eaten yet, and your food makes me know how hungry we probably all are.”

“There are fine restaurants in town, and you’ll find them,” the Negro woman said. “I’m sorry you didn’t meet my husband. He’s a wonderful man. He’s everything to me.”

“Tell him I appreciate the phone,” I said. “You saved me.”

“You weren’t hard to save,” the woman said. “Saving people is what we were all put on earth to do. I just passed you on to whatever’s coming to you.”

“Let’s hope it’s good,” I said, stepping back into the dark.

“I’ll be hoping, Mr.